


They Are Going Through The Unimaginable

by Lieujones



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Alexander cheats a lot, Alexander isn't, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Thomas Jefferson, Domestic Violence, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Hurt Thomas Jefferson, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, OOC for the first chapters, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Thomas Jefferson and the Marquis de Lafayette are cousins, Thomas has a lot of weird animals, Thomas is very religious, Top Alexander Hamilton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieujones/pseuds/Lieujones
Summary: At the beginning of 1700 the United Kingdom and America were ready to start a war, but both the nations needed the support of France to win the fight. Luckily for them, the second heir to the French throne, Thomas, was about to come of age, so as King George III asked for his hand, King George Washington proposed a marriage with his nephew, Alexander.Thomas hated the idea to spend more than one minute with King George and despised the thought of marrying a stranger, but did he have any choice?***The story may have some historical inaccuracies beyond those necessary for the plot. The chapters containing acts of violence will be preceded by a warning.This story takes inspiration from "Don't Forget That History Has It's Eyes On You" by FandomShipperAway, which I highly recommend!
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Other(s), Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Thomas Jefferson/Other(s)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to specify that English is not my first language and that I'm not so good at it, but I will try my best!  
> You will find some information about the characters in the notes at the end.
> 
> This is the fanfiction that inspired me to write this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881110/chapters/60199039 , it's really good, I totally love it!
> 
> Enjoy!

Here is the stuff of which fairy tales are made: the two royals on their wedding day.

But fairy tales usually end at this point, with the simple phrase: ‘they lived happily ever after.’

As the two spouses live out their vows, loving and cherishing one another, sharing life’s splendors and miseries, achievements and setbacks, they will be transformed in the process.

We are used to seeing the wedding day as the place of arrival, the finsh line after many struggles.

It should be seen, instead, as the beginning of them.

***

As every chapter of history that involves kingdoms, wars and seizures of power teaches us, everything revolves around heirs and inheritance: the first born, preferably male, marries a royal member of a foreign country, alliances are formed, a new heir is secured for the dynasty and the kingdom, the new heir is promised to a royal member of a foreign country, new alliances are formed, and the cycle repeats itself indefinitely until the monarchy collapses under its own weight.

Just as we ourselves understand that none of these marriages, or almost none, were happy, so did those directly involved. Sure, that didn’t make any difference, they still had to fulfill their duties and the will of their family, albeit with some complaints from the most daring… and Thomas and Alexander were far too daring.

The situation was clear as well as complex: the second heir to the France's throne was about to come of age, England and America were about to wage war against each other and were desperate to form an alliance with the aforesaid nation.

France would have benefited from the union with England to strengthen its control over Europe, but the possibility of betrayal on the part of King George III was high and not to be underestimated; from America it would certainly have drawn the economic benefits that a new, largely unexplored continent could bring. America was also bigger from a territorial point of view, but England was bigger politically and, almost certainly, militarily as well. France was, on the other hand, the only nation that could afford the cost of a war of such magnitude, and its influence over Spain, Italy and China was remarkable.

The question on the agenda in the elegant French living rooms, therefore, was: 'against whom will we go to war?'

And while the nobles and councillors discussed the pros and cons of different alliances, in the gardens of the Palais Royal a much less diplomatic and civil conversation took place between the future King of France, Gilbert, and his cousin, Thomas.

"Why can't someone else do it?! Don't we have any distant cousins? Since when am I important enough to be involved in these affairs?!" the younger of the two Frenchmen was raising his voice to a level that could have been described as yelling, venting his anger on iris flowers.

"You know it would mean waiting at least four more years... And I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't want any of the women in our family in this situation" Gilbert replied calmly, he wanted to help his cousin, console him if possible but he knew the best thing at the moment was to let him vent.

"Besides, you've always been important, just not as important as me" he added with a smirk.

“Oh, sure, I have to thank those two magical months of detachment that allowed me to have a royal title without having to worry about the throne”, they had been there many other times, Gilbert would make fun of Thomas for being younger than him and in response Thomas reminded Gilbert that he was the one who would have to bear the weight of the crown.

"Hey, wouldn't it be funny if after all these years of despising the throne you became Prince Consort of England?" the older asked chuckling.

The giggling ceased as soon as he met his cousin's eyes: “Of course not, forgive me, it was very rude and inappropriate from me”, Gilbert hastened to lower his gaze immediately after.

Thomas looked at his cousin for a moment before sighing: “It doesn’t matter, I have to learn to be less touchy-feely anyway” he said before turning to snatchsome other irises.

“Good Heavens! What just happened? Did you just admit you have a flaw? And that you’ll try to improve yourself?! And why is that?”, those were attempts to cheer Thomas up, although it was clear that they weren’t working so well. At in this time, at least.

"It happens when one of your hypothetical husbands is a psychopath known for his particular streak of gratuitous violence", the words were spewed out like venom before Thomas could stop them, he realized it the moment he uttered them. Almost as if he wanted to run away from his own words, the younger prince started walking toward one of the larger fountains.

He remembered King George and those weren’t exactly pleasant memories. They had met twice, and that was enough for him: the first time was a little before George’s coronation, about three years earlier, when Thomas was fifteen and the Englishman was twenty-two. The then-prince had stayed for a week, the worst week in the life of Thomas and his servants.

_***_

_Hot._

_Too hot to be cooped up in the hunting lodge that the King of France insisted on considering his summer residence._   
_Gilbert and Thomas shouldn't have been there, they should have been in some palace along the coast as was their custom in the summer, not bored to death while a pompous Englishman strutted around with their uncle._   
_The two cousins had the impression that they had been standing still in the lounge for ages, exchanging glances of agreement from time to time, Gilbert lost in his thoughts and Thomas busy observing the paintings from afar._

_Both of them were so drowsy and busy doing anything but paying attention to their guest, they didn't notice the attention was being turned towards them until the King and Prince George were in front of them._

_"Oh, I had heard that your nephews looked alike, but I didn't think they could be mistaken for twins, dear Louis" Prince George said with a smirk, probably feeling very funny about the joke._

_"Good blood does not lie, dear George. Allow me to introduce Prince Gilbert, future King of France", pride and approval were palpable in the Sovereign's words._

_Gilbert took a step forward, a quick bow with his head, and limited himself to a simple and apathetic: "Delighted to meet you and have you here as our guest."_

_Thomas rolled his eyes, they had agreed on what to say and his cousin had just stolen his line. Great._

_"The pleasure is mine. I'm sure we'll have a chance to talk, between future sovereigns we must get to know each other, I'm sure a fruitful friendship will be born" the Prince of England said keeping an excessively tight smile with his eyes wide open beyond the human limit._

_The only thought Thomas had at that sight was of a tuna, a big smiling tuna, which of course gave him a giggle that he managed to suppress in less than a second. The Prince must have been much faster than Thomas._ _He was immediately in front of the youngest cousin, looking him straight in the eyes, the drawn smile hadn't yet left his lips._

_"Then, I suppose you must be Prince Thomas, Duke of Orléans."_

_If he thought he was intimidating Thomas or convincing him to look away with so little he was sorely mistaken._

_"My compliments on perspicacity, is it an English trait or is it a virtue of yours?"_

_"Thomas!", his uncle's tone was one of warning, not reproach, it sounded more like a caution._

_'Don't provoke him.'_

_If Thomas had turned around he would have seen the same warning in his cousin's eyes._

_Clenching his jaw, he briefly bowed his head and said: "I beg your pardon, the heat must have gone to my head."_

_Louis took the opportunity to step into the conversation and put some space between the two._

_"Eheh, blissful youth! Let's just hope that age grants some temperance and self-control to my nephew!" the Sovereign's laughter did nothing to ease the tension between the two Princes, in fact it was as if he hadn't approached at all. Their gazes still fixed on each other._

_"Self-control, you say?" the future King chuckled softly, "No, it's better this way... natural, spontaneous, untamable... A challenge indeed",_ _Thomas swore at that moment that if the English prince hadn't removed that smirk from his face, he would have pierced his cheeks with a letter opener._

_"Perhaps I could accompany the Prince for some fresh air outside. I'm sure he could provide me with some honest opinions on multiple topics."_

_Before Thomas could reply, Gilbert drew as close as he could to his cousin and, with as much charm as he could muster, he turned to the Englishman: "Why don't you let yourself be tempted by a hunting trip instead? I'm sure you'd find the woods around here excellent for resting from the endless duties that surely weigh on your shoulders."_

_The older prince seemed to appreciate the French heir's subtle flattery, finally looked away from Thomas' eyes, and turned back to the King: "_ _I wouldn't mind a good hunting trip at all. How soon would it be possible to leave?"_

_Louis was relieved, to say the least, at the rapid turn of events. After assuring the Prince that they would be ready in an hour or so, he had him escorted of his rooms to allow him to get ready and to allow himself a few words with his nephews._

_The King allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and breathe slowly: "_ _Do you realize that you are not here to play games and spite each other, but to begin to familiarize yourself with international relations? And hasn't it occurred to you that perhaps making a good first impression on the future King of England might assure France not only one less enemy, but also a possible commercial and military ally?"_

_"The fault is mine, Uncle. We agreed on what to say, and I got Thomas into trouble by catching him off guard", typical of Gilbert to try to pull his cousin out of trouble, even when he didn't deserve it. They might have only been four months apart but Gilbert had always felt responsible for Thomas, something the younger didn't always appreciate._

_"No, it was my fault, I should have held my tongue. I'm sorry, Uncl. It won't happen again" Thomas promptly countered._

_The Sovereign let a chuckle escape before replying: "We both know it's going to happen again, just... try to hold back while the Prince is here, all right? It doesn't drive me crazy either, but I'd rather know you out of his interest."_

_"Of course, Uncle.”_

_A brief pause followed in which all three Frenchmen relaxed, before Gilbert asked: "Should we prepare for the hunt?"_

_The King shook his head._

_"No, you will stay here, or run off somewhere as is your wont. The formal excuse will be that you are too young for this kind of activity."_

_"Hunting is stupid, anyway" Thomas added, crossing his arms._

_"You don't complain when the game is served at the table, though," Gilbert replied, nudging his cousin slightly._

_Thomas winked at the older man: "Well, hate the sin, love the sinner!"_

_The King rolled his eyes before dismissing them._

_"I'll see you at dinner, where you'll act civilized and, if you can, even royalty."_

_***_

_Thomas rushed out of his chambers as soon as he heard a voice thunder from across the hall: Prince George's chambers._

_Can't you do your job?! If it were up to me you would have been sent to the Americas by now! That land of savages would suit your style of service!"_

_The doors were closed, but that didn't stop Thomas from walking in to see what was going on._ _Shards of what must have been a goblet lay on the ground, the pieces of glass wet from the wine that had spilled onto the floor._ _The English prince stood in front of a servant who seemed to be getting smaller by the second, a red mark standing out on his left cheek._

_"What-", Thomas was immediately interrupted by the older man._

_"Ah, a suitable person to settle this matter. I trust you will send this incompetent away and demand the cost of damages. In England I would have already left him to the guards", his voice was devoid of any feeling, only anger and hatred seemed to possess the prince at that moment._

_Thomas decided to ignore the Englishman and turn to the servant instead, a boy who might have been little older than he and Gilbert._

_"What happened?"_

_"Your Highness, I only brought the wine to the Prince as I was ordered... I swear, Your Highness, I was not told he had a specific request-", the boy looked sincerely shocked and scared._

_"You dare to contradict me again?!", the prince seemed determined not to let anyone finish speaking, "Your job is to-"_

_"So all this fuss is just about a glass of wine?" Thomas asked alternating his gaze between the boy and the prince._

_"Well, get someone to clean the floor and then freshen up, starting tonight you will serve in my chambers" he continued addressing the young servant._

_Of course the older prince promptly retorted: "I hope you're kidding-"_

_"Your Highness, I am speaking", Thomas put on his best forced smile._

_"As for you: dinner will be ready soon, there you will find any sort of wine you want, you can surely wait another ten minutes. Let's go", the servant followed Thomas and quickly left the room._

_Before going out again, Thomas turned to the prince again: "_ _Perhaps it works differently in England, but here in France we are taught from childhood not to use violence against anyone who does not deserve it. I hope an incident like this will never happen again."_

_Prince George returned to look at Thomas with the same tuna-like expression as that morning. If possible, his smile widened even more._

_"Certainly, Your Highness."_

_***_

The second time they met was at the funeral of their beloved uncle Louis, not even fourteen months earlier, who had left the kingdom under the dual regency of the two siblings, Gilbert's father, Philippe, and Thomas' mother, Marie-Lousie.

Actually, they barely spoke to each other, the now King George approached Gilbert to offer his condolences and comment something about America, and then turned to Thomas and repeated the same condolences, except for one small addition. One comment stuck in Thomas' mind: _"My God, you've grown up."_

Lost in his memories and too busy throwing rocks in the water, Thomas was brought back to reality by his cousin.

"What about the American?"

Thomas emitted an almost hysterical laugh.

"A man I've not only never seen in my life, but who is probably also an illegitimate child?"

"He's not illegitimate, he was born of his mother's first marriage and his stepfather has acknowledged him as his son,, so everything is regular."

"Sure, if you say so..."

The two cousins were joined by the Foreign Minister, who looked quite fatigued, probably having run from the Council room to the garden.

"I am sorry to disturb Their Royal Highnesses, but the Council has made a decision."

Gilbert approached Thomas and brushed his hand, a simple gesture to remind his cousin that he was there with him no matter what. Since the younger seemed unable to speak, Gilbert did it for him: "So?"

The minister looked at Thomas almost apologetically before answering: "Prince Thomas will be joining his betrothed in America in two weeks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Louis had no children, but he had two siblings, Philippe and Marie-Louise who had:  
> -Gilbert, 18 years old, April 10th, Philippe's son;  
> -Thomas, 17 years old, June 22nd, Marie-Louise's son;  
> -Jeanne and Marie, 14 years old, December 16th, Marie-Louise's twins;  
> -Valérie, 12 years old, August 7th, Philippe's daughter.
> 
> King George Washington lost his wife Martha and their unborn child during her difficult pregnancy, his brother Charles had two sons:  
> -James, 24 years old, 19th October, born from his first marriage;  
> -Alexander, 22 years old, January 11th, born from his second wife's first marriage.  
> Charles' first wife killed herself after discovering her husband's infidelity.
> 
> ***
> 
> I'll be happy to answer any questions about the story if you need!  
> This is my very first fanfiction after, like, 5 years, and my first ever in English! Also, I wouldn't mind having a Beta, so if you're interested you can contact me at this email address: pollona.lf@gmail.com  
> Or send a message on Wattpad to @Lieujones
> 
> I'll try to publish the second chapter next week, see y'all 🙆♀️


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into Alexander's life.

Alexander had quite well taken the possibility of a political marriage, he was not a fool, he knew that the financial and military aid of France was essential for the war against England, but now that possibility was becoming real. The American was actually surprised to learn that France had decided to side with his country, it was a high risk to turn against King George, especially since their kingdoms were so geographically close.

Well, it didn’t matter at that point, Alexander was sure they would win this war and getting married was a minor sacrifice he was willing to make, or at least that’s what the prince kept repeating himself. He understood the choice of betrothing both second heirs to the throne: both possessed an important title and a place in the line of succession, but neither would actually ascend to the throne. Thus, they would consolidate the union between their kingdoms but could still count on the future marriages of both Prince Gilbert and Prince James, Alexander’s brother, brother who did not leave a moment of respite to the youngest from the beginning of the question of engagement, even during their frequent rides and hunting trips.

“I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you, considering how lucky you are! I heard the prince is very handsome,” James said as he brought his horse closer to Alexander’s.

The younger brother sighed briefly before answering.

“I know, I have been told many times”, and he could not deny it, two paintings of Thomas were sent to him, one that he decided to keep in his study, the other small enough to be carried in his pocket, which Alexander did. The prince was quite embarrassed to admit it to himself, but the little Frenchman certainly looked magnificent.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a child.”

“I wouldn’t call him ‘a child’ since he turned eighteen two days ago. Just think what a great birthday: on a ship to his new home while gets bored to death! And by the way, it wouldn’t be a problem, King George is seven years older than Prince Thomas, but that didn’t stop him from coming forward, and if you remember, it’s not unusual to promise infants in political games.”

“What a fine comparison: a mad king and old perverts playing with the lives of some poor children” Alexander retorted while he began to distance himself from his brother to return to the palace. He definitely needed a few moments of absolute solitude.

“See? You care about these things, so the young prince is already lucky enough. Do you think someone else would have mind these problems? Alexander, you don’t have to worry, you’ll be a good husband, you got the good side of the family!”, James followed his brother down the path of return, but he still stayed a little further back to reflect.

He was honest about what he said to Alexander, he knew his brother and he certainly didn’t need to compare him to King George to know that he wasn’t a bad person. But James was also aware that his little brother did not always react well to changes and he was afraid that Alexander might have inherited his stepfather’s attitudes and vices as his own. James hated Charles, he refused to consider him his father since age allowed him to understand what the man had done to his mother: betrayals, threats, endless humiliations to the point of pushing her to take her own life when she learned that her husband intended to have his mistress, Rachel, live in their house.

James did not hate Rachel, nor Alexander, on the contrary he considered her a blessing sent directly from heaven: she was always kind to him and considered him his son in all respect, always defended him and managed to prevent his father from venting his frustrations on him, she took him and Alexander into the woods for long walks and sometimes she even managed to take them to town (contrary to her husband’s orders). Both brothers greatly missed Rachel, a breast cancer had consumed her until she reached her heart, which was somewhat ironic according to James: both deaths of the two women who married his father were caused by the heart.

“How silent you are. Are you thinking of some beautiful lady?” Alexander suddenly asked as they reached the stables.

“Of course! Why should I ever think to an ugly one?” he asked back at his brother with a wink. Alexander rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Who would have thought I would be the first one to get marry? I was pretty sure you were the most… ‘connoisseur’ the last time I checked!” and that was true, James was known to be particularly free and witty with the ladies of the court.

“That’s why, my dear! You don’t think I’d give up all those sweet company just to win a war, do you?”, this and the fact that, in his father’s eyes, James wasn’t worthy enough to marry the little Frenchman. To be honest his father neither considered Alexander worthy of that marriage, but he found himself having to choose the lesser of evils.

“What I think is that our uncle has no desire to see you bleeding to the ground, half dead, because of your inability to hold back when you see a pretty girl” the brother replied dismounting.

“As if I would let such a thing happen!”, James imitated the youngest, entrusting the reins and the horse to the care of the ostlers, gave a quick caress to the muzzle of the beloved animal before heading to his private rooms.

“Hey, James!”, the older turned to his brother, “Who was the woman you were thinking of?”

James looked down with a laugh before answering: “Mama.”

Alexander stopped for a second before nodding.

“When will my betrothed arrive?” he asked, keeping an indecipherable look.

“Uhm, in four days, I think. Assuming the ship has not sunk” he older replied nonchalantly.

“James!”

“It was just to say!”

\---

Four days.

Alexander only had four days before finding himself in what the Church considers 'one of the most sacred sacraments' and that most courts consider 'the worst torture that can be inflicted'.

A storm of questions had plagued him for days: what was the prince like? Shy, arrogant, mischievous, cruel, generous, reliable, ready to overthrow the kingdom or obey higher orders? What were his interests? Did he enjoy writing and discussing politics like Alexander did? Should he have called him by name or by the real title? What were his interests? Did he like to write and discuss politics as Alexander did? Should he have called him by his name or by the royal title?

Then one question dominated the others: would he be able to satisfy the little Frenchman?

He was sure the prince had no experience of intimacy in bed, but that didn’t mean that he did not have some expectations. Alexander himself had never gone beyond the limit, only occasional deep kisses in the gardens with some member of the court with whom they would never talk again, which certainly could not do with the French prince.

He thought of going to talk to James about his fears, however vain he would surely help his brother to understand how to behave, when someone knocked on the door of his studio.

“Is it important?” he asked, putting his hand on his face, already normally he did not want to be disturbed, at that moment less than ever.

The door opened just enough for a head to pop out.

“Can I come in?”

“By now you have opened the door, and besides you are always welcome, dear Uncle”, the King made his way across the room to sit on the chair in front of his nephew’s desk. “What news from the Council?”

“The usual: problems, problems and more problems… but they’re all relieved by the impending wedding, so the meeting was a little less heavy than the other times.”

“Happy to make the day easier for everyone” Alexander commented, dropping himself on the chair behind the desk. “By the way, do you have any other information about the prince? Do you know if he has any particular interest? Maybe reading or something like that?”

The King was caught unawares by his nephew’s sudden series of questions, as he had never been too interested in the French prince before except for key information.

“Inter-well, yes, he really enjoys reading and studying foreign languages. I remember poor Louis telling me that both princes had the bizarre passion to escape the palace to explore uninhabited woods and villages, once he broke his wrist falling from a tree in the garden, if I’m not mistaken”, this anecdote made the young American smile, perhaps they could escape together in the woods from time to time.

“His real passion, however, is music, the violin in particular, although he also excels at the piano”, that was, instead, a very useful information.

“Wonderful! You have been a great help to me Uncle, I really thank you” Alexander said, grabbing a quill and a piece of paper from the messy desk and then quickly writing notes.

“Sorry, you came here to tell me something, or…?” he asked without looking up from the paper, “Because I have to do one-no, two things, actually.”

“My goodness, kid, slow down! Take a moment for yourself. Anyway, I wanted to know if at least tomorrow I’ll see you at mass.”

Alexander snorted, “I’m very busy, Uncle. I doubt anyone would notice my absence anyway.”

“You must not go to get noticed, you should go for your soul”, the King knew that was wasted breath, unfortunately the young prince had never had the same spiritual faith as his mother, who had taught him that God always forgives the sins of His children, even when they themselves don’t realize they’re sinning. Alexander interpreted his mother’s thought as a chance to skip boring church functions.

“Among other things, I was told that Prince Thomas usually goes to church more than once a week.”

“Good for him, I suppose”, Alexander stood up right after, walking away from the desk with the paper in his hand. “May I have dinner in my rooms? I’d like to work on some paperwork” he added as he proceeded to the door.

“Son-” the King began, before being interrupted by his nephew.

“I’m not your son.”

George pursed his lips just to relax right after.

“Alexander, I’d prefer you to take some time off from work and spend some extra time with your family” the older one recounted, getting up in turn to join his nephew near the door.

“I spend most of my days with James and You!” replied the prince, almost upset by his uncle’s request.

“Of course, I know! But maybe you should talk to your father a little”, George said the last sentence slowly and in a slightly lower tone than before. The room immediately became filled with a heavy silence. The younger had nothing to say to his stepfather and, at that time, not even to his uncle.

“Alex, please”, the King appealed to his nephew’s diminutive, reserved only for those closest to him. Charles wasn’t allowed to use it.

“I know it’s not easy for you. I’m not asking you to love him as a father… but in four days Thomas will be here and soon after you’ll get married, and only God knows what will happen next. Now you can try to fix things, we don’t know when it will be too late. Think about it, Alex. It’s only four days.”

Alexander didn’t turn to meet his uncle’s eyes, he didn’t want to and didn’t need to, just as he didn’t want and didn’t need to talk to his stepfather. Instead, he put his hand on the door handle, opening it.

"We’ll see at dinner, dear Uncle."

\---

“Can you believe it?! With what courage does he come to ask me such a thing?!”, Alexander was furious, he marched at a war pace to James' chambers and stayed there for a good half hour, continuing to rant against his stepfather and occasionally against their uncle.

“What does he expect? That I go to him, as if nothing had happened, and ask: how are you, Father? Do you have a new mistress? Do you beat her too? What do you suggest me to do if my husband doesn’t do as I say?”

James watched his brother walk around the room for what must have been the thousandth time.

“Ask him how to kill him” he commented without any trace of hilarity.

“It would be appropriate” the younger prince replied, throwing himself on one of the small sofas in the room. Both remained in a thoughtful silence for a few seconds, before Alexander stated, "I’m not going to talk to him."

“Then don’t do it. What can Charles do, force you? Sure, a few years ago, but now… as our uncle said: you’re about to get married, he can’t do anything to you”, James went to the couch where his brother had laid down and lowered himself to look him straight in the eye, "If I were you, though, I would take this opportunity to show him that you don’t owe him a damn thing.” The brothers stared at each other intensely, then Alexander nodded slowly.

“What would you suggest me to say?”

\---

George made serve dinner in the wing of the palace reserved for the royal family, partly out of a desire for intimacy and partly out of fear of a quarrel between his brother and his sons, although until that moment of the evening everyone remained quite calm. James and Alexander continued to talk to each other as if they were alone, Charles and George quickly opened and closed various speeches.

After the meal the King took James aside on the pretext of teaching him something about being a good ruler, leaving Alexander and Charles alone. George must have also spoken to his brother, because he approached his stepson with some reluctance.

Alexander turned to look at his stepfather, waiting for him to make the first move, because he certainly wouldn’t be the one to make it.

“Have you already decided where you’ll live after the wedding?”, so they were really going to pretend everything was okay. All right, if it had to be this way, Alexander wouldn’t have objected.

“James asked me to stay here, at least for a while. However, if the prince wants to go somewhere else, I will do my best to satisfy him.”

‘Something you’ve never tried to do’ he added in his head.

“Normally I would be against it, but you’re right to plan on how to keep him good, it’s all more difficult if he rejects you”, Alexander felt the heat rising from his nape to the lower part of his head, while Charles walked away for a moment before returning with a glass of wine.

“You have to secure a boy, you understand that, right? Nothing matters until you secure an heir.”

“There’s not much I can do; God will decide if and what grant to me” Alexander replied annoyed. Maybe he should have tried harder in prayer, even though he himself tended to consider the 'gift' of birth to be a combination of astral and mystical elements.

“Rubbish. Forget that nonsense and listen to me”, Charles grabbed his stepson’s wrist and pulled him closer to himself. “No matter what the Church and the members of the court will tell you, you are the only one who knows when to operate for a boy. Do you know how to behave?”

Alexander abruptly tore his wrist from Charles' grip.

“Of course I know, and even if I didn’t, I certainly wouldn’t come to you for advice.”

“Listen to me carefully: I have no doubt that you know how it works in theory, but you have to be ready. Maybe you should visit that pretty house on the edge of town.”

A house of tolerance.

What Charles, his stepfather, wanted Alexander to visit was a brothel.

The prince would have been a hypocrite to deny having considered the idea, especially in the afternoon of that same day. But now, after listening to Charles, he knew he couldn’t do it.

Alexander stared silently at his stepfather, then took a deep breath. “I don’t need it.”

Charles sighed shaking his head. “Well, if you change your mind ask to speak to the owner, tell her Charlie sent you… She will know what to do”, saying this he turned away, leaving Alexander alone and with a growing anger.

As soon as Charles left the room, George approached his nephew, but before he could even ask him what had happened, the prince turned with his eyes blazing with different emotions.

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again!”, the King stepped back to the tone of pure anger; James also marvelled at his brother’s outburst, so he hurried over to try to calm him down. “Do you know what he advised me to do?! He suggested me to ‘keep Prince Thomas good’ and to follow instincts, like an animal! He offered me to sleep with God knows who to practice generating a male heir!”

The King lowered his head and shook it, while James laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Alexander. I was hoping it would have gone differently”, George ran a hand over his face before continuing: “I won’t ask you to do it again, and I think it’s pretty silly to tell to ignore your father’s… ‘advices’.”

“Stepfather”, Alexander didn’t say it like you’d expect, James said it.

“Alex has nothing in common with him.”

The oldest closed his eyes for a second, then reappeared and returned to being the composed and peaceful man he was.

“It was a difficult evening preceded by a day not too light for any of us, I suggest you both to empty your head and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we have to deal with military matters and I want both of you present and ready to contribute."

\---

Alexander cursed himself while he kept tossing and turning in his bed, he hadn’t said any of the things James suggested.

‘God, I’m such an idiot’ he repeated himself over and over again.

‘All right, keep it together, Alex. Take a deep breath and just relax, you did everything you had to do today. Preparations are well under way and you’ll be fine, Prince Thomas will be fine, everything will be fine. You just need to breath.’

Repeating these words like a mantra, Alexander finally fell asleep with the thought of what would happen in four days, three days now, and maybe the thing he was beginning to feel in his chest was… excitement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this chapter is kinda boring, but good news! Thomas and Alexander will meet in the next chapter!  
> Hope to see you at the next update!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet for the first time.

And so, after two weeks in the middle of the ocean and a seemingly endless carriage ride, Prince Thomas was about to arrive at the Royal Palace along with his cousins Gilbert and Valérie. The little French girl seemed to be living the moment of her life, devouring with her eyes every single thing on which her gaze fell; Thomas wasn’t too surprised, she was the youngest of the family and had never been outside the Royal properties. The cousin insisted on taking her to America on the pretext that she could learn to speak English more fluently and get an idea of foreign courts; the truth was that he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his little cousin before getting married and signing his exile from France (an expression that Gilbert called 'beyond the limits of the dramatic').

If it had been up to Thomas, he would have gladly taken his sisters with him too, but first of all: no one in their right mind would have sent all the heirs to the throne on a ship that could quietly sink; secondly, Thomas had decided that they would pretend that he was just going to some other royal residence in France, so it would be easier to deal with separation, at least in theory. Actually, the prince had begun to miss Jeanne and Marie in the very same moment he was told he had to get married; they were his little sisters, they might not always get along, but he would still give his life for them, which is why he would accept this marriage.  
Gilbert was reprimanding his sister probably because of some unintentionally ill-behaved gesture, when the umpteenth ditch made the carriage jump, causing Valérie to fall on his brother and a discreet bump to the head of Thomas, sitting next to her.

“Don’t they have a faint idea of how to build roads here in America?!” exclaimed irritated the younger prince as he put his hand on the point of the aching head, “We are not travelling to the palace; we are jolting to the palace.”

“Cousin, I love you, you know it very well, but do you realize that since we left France your mood has been like a pendulum swinging between boredom, disgust and impatience?” the older one asked, helping his sister to compose herself.

“That’s right, Tommy! You know when they say that, once you come of age, you start a new life? Well, your new life started only eight days ago and it already looks pretty crappy!” added the little girl.

“Wretched. You must say wretched, not crap. Language is important” Gilbert repeated them for the hundredth time, pinching the bridge of the nose with his eyes closed, exhausted to deal with both his sister and his cousin.

“Let her say what she wants, she won’t hurt anyone and at least she’s funny”, Thomas winked at his little cousin, who chuckled back.

The oldest of the three reopened his eyes to cast a critical glance at his cousin.

“You realize it’s all your fault if she’s like this and she’ll never be able to find a husband, right?”

“She doesn’t need it; I’m already doing it. Besides, it’s much better if she doesn’t get married, so I can get her to come here and keep me company” Thomas replied, turning to look at the little girl who had lit up with joy at the statement.

“No, no, don’t even think about it, she stays with me. Among other things, I hope you’ll be able to find some company in the court before the child here comes of age as a husband."

“I’m not a child, I’m almost a young lady” Valérie replied annoyed.

Thomas would have lied if he had claimed to know what happened in the moments that followed, he remembered that surely Valérie had kicked Gilbert, who had responded with some statement that angered his sister, who threw one of her gloves at him, which was intercepted and caught by the older and sent back to the sender, but to the wrong sender, because the glove hit Thomas right in the face. At that point he was attacked, he couldn't allow to passively take it, could he?

A couple of shots later, the three were in a stalemate, with Valérie clutching her brother's hair in one hand and her legs on the opposite seat to keep from giving way, Gilbert trying to get rid of his sister’s hand and at the same time throwing whatever he had at hand against his cousin, and Thomas dodging both Gilbert’s flying objects and Valérie's fatal blows.  
The three slowly stopped attacking each other when they felt the carriage slow down. Valérie was the first to look out the window, the face incredibly serious and her gaze impressed.

“We have arrived”, her voice was incredibly light, maybe she still couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

Gilbert leaned out of his seat with the excuse of looking back at the American building, but sneakily took his cousin's hand.

“Thomas, are you all right?”, the younger prince had not yet moved since the carriage had slowed down, remaining with his gaze fixed under the window.

No, he wasn’t all right, nothing was all right. He wasn’t just about to meet his fiancé, he was about to be introduced to the entire Court and, shortly thereafter, to the whole Nation, and soon after to all known world.

He had already left his home, his mother and sisters, his friends, his country, and after the wedding he would have also left his cousins. He would have no one left. He already seemed to have no one left.

“Thomas?”, his cousin’s voice quickly took him out of his thoughts, nodded twice before finally looking out.

That place was huge.

He could not tell if it was bigger than the French royal palaces, but it was certainly not as he expected; he had imagined something not too lavish, almost modest, suitable for the Royal Family and the most important members of the Council and the Court, but this... this was the exact opposite of what Thomas thought he would find.

“It’s so imposing”, his voice was almost a whisper, Gilbert had to make an effort to understand what his cousin had said; he breathed quickly and heavily and suddenly paled more than ever before. Probably, during the course of the day, the almost King of France cursed himself for not having understood what was happening earlier.

“It will be full of people. They will all expect me to say something, they will all expect something from me. I can’t speak, Gilbert, not in front of all those looks; I know how the members of the court behave. I will be the shame of France. I can’t do it, I’m not ready for this”, probably anyone else wouldn’t have understood half the things the young Frenchman was saying, but his cousins were certainly not ‘anyone else’.

Valérie hurried back to his seat next to his cousin as Gilbert tightened his grip on Thomas's hand.

“Look at me. Look at me, Thomas”, he placed his free hand to his cousin’s cheek to bring him to meet his gaze, his cousin’s eyes appeared to him wet and full of fear, “You are not alone. I will be with you all the time, no one will do anything to you. You’re the strongest of the whole family, much stronger than I am, and you’ll be ten steps ahead of anyone in there. You will never be the shame of France, you are the pride of France, understand? Even because our beloved homeland will never know a worse misfortune than your unfortunate cousin.”

“For heaven’s sake! Stop it!”, the little French girl’s reaction caused a little laughter to her cousin, but probably it sounded more like a small hiccup.

Gilbert continued, ignoring his sister.

“Listen: it won’t be easy, it’s useless to pretend otherwise, but you will succeed; I bet that in less than a year the other royals will look at you as a point of reference. And I promise you no one will hurt you, because if that happens, I’m going come back here and make sure nothing is known about the culprit.”

“We'll make sure” Valérie corrected him and Thomas knew neither of them was joking, especially the older one. He didn't have too much trouble imagining Gilbert killing someone and hiding their body.

“Gilbert will speak for you if you don't feel like it. You could just greet the King and the Princes.”

Thomas shook his head.

“No, I mean, yes... if Gilbert could take care of the formalities, I’d be immensely relieved, but this place is about to become my new home and soon I will have a new family, so I should try to meet the situation, I suppose...”

The older one let go his cousin’s hand only to be able to lean out to embrace him, being immediately joined by his sister, just a second before the carriage stopped.

“Our uncle would be very proud of you”, the carriage door was opened by a valet. “Shall we?”, Thomas nodded, putting on his best royal expression, he wouldn’t have let them see him like that.

Gilbert got out first, as it was expected from the next King of France, followed by Thomas and Valérie last. All three French were slightly bothered by the sunlight that struck their eyes.

Thomas was right: all the members of the court had gathered along the sides of the entrance of the palace, while in the center stood King George Washington, the two princes on his left and his brother Charles on his right.

The French walked up to be in front of him and as per tradition, as guests, they bowed first, being quickly imitated by the Americans. Re-establishing eye contact with the crown prince, the king showed a sincere smile of happiness.

“My Dears, what a joy to have you here! I confess that I have been very worried about your arrival” he said as he was about to shake the hand of the future King.

“And we're glad to have arrived safe and sound, Your Majesty!”, Gilbert returned the king’s handshake before any introduction was made.

“Allow me to introduce you my nephews and heirs: Prince James and Prince Alexander”, the two took a step forward and the younger took the opportunity to look for the eyes of his fiancé, which however remained fixed on the king.

“It is a pleasure and an honor to meet you" Gilbert smiled kindly to the two brothers, then moved slightly to make his introductions: "I suppose you want to meet my beloved cousin, Prince Thomas.”

Thomas took a deep breath before approaching his older cousin.

“Your Majesty”, he bowed his head again as a sign of respect and greeting, “Highnesses.”

And finally, Thomas' eyes met Alexander's.

The Frenchman had to admit that the American had wonderful eyes, he had never met anyone with violet-blue eyes; they were so magnetic.

Alexander, on the other hand, found himself utterly speechless, which practically never happened (God help anyone who ended up arguing with that boy). What was he supposed to say? He knew it was enough to say how honored he was to meet him, but, for God’s sake, his mouth seemed to mean everything but that.

Luckily, James was there to anticipate any of his brother’s moves.

“I am more than happy to finally meet my future brother-in-law! It’s really beautiful to have you here”, James came up to take one of the Frenchman’s hand in his own hands, just like he would with a little brother, "Isn’t that right, Alexander?"

The younger prince found his voice again by pure miracle and what he later said was somewhat embarrassing: “Beautiful, very beautiful...” Alexander came back to reality when he saw Thomas raise an eyebrow and James trying to hide a grin, “...finally getting to know you! Both-I mean, the three of you.”

Valérie took the small reference to attract attention with a small cough.

“Oh sure, I'm sorry. This is Valérie, my little sister and fifth heir to the throne of France” Gilbert said as his sister cheerfully approached Thomas.

"Fourth soon, hopefully."

Oh, right. Charles was there too.

James and Alexander immediately changed their words, they knew what that comment meant: what pride it must have been for Charles to have the former second heir of France in his family.

The three French didn't take the comment well either, but they decided to interpret it as a demonstration of impatience for the wedding, at least for the moment.

It was up to the King to stop that situation in the bud.

“May I introduce you my brother Charles? Duke of Richmond and father of James and Alexander”, both young Americans had to refrain from correcting their uncle.

Gilbert nodded slowly and Valérie gave him a wary look.

“It is wonderful to be able to make your acquaintance, Duke. I’m sure we will learn to get along”, Thomas carefully chose his words, he had to be polite but wanted to clarify that surely there would be some future misunderstandings.

Charles smiled at the French prince.

“Of course, I’m sure you’ll bring a breeze of novelty and change to this family”, Charles quickly looked at Alexander before adding: “Son.”

Thomas felt uncomfortable with the title, but he forced himself to relax; after all he would marry his son, maybe the Duke was just trying to be kind. Maybe.

Alexander’s vision, however, turned red with anger. How dare he behave like this, in front of everyone, in front of the French guests, in front of his betrothed?!

“You all must be very tired. George, why don’t we let our guests rest in their rooms?”

"Yes... I think that’s a good idea."

George wouldn’t have allowed any more incidents today, which is why he turned to one of his most trusted friends and councillors. “Count Schuyler, would you be so kind as to accompany our guests to their lodgings? Your daughter could keep little Princess Valérie company.”

The Count gave the impression of being a very calm man, similar to the king, relaxed but attentive and present. Adjusting the small glasses resting on the tip of his nose, the man nodded smiling at the king: “We would be honored, Sire.”

“Actually, I was wondering if it might be possible for me to accompany Prince Thomas to his chambers” Alexander suddenly declared, which earned him curious looks from both his family and guests. Noticing the young Frenchman’s thoughtful gaze, he hastened to add: “If His Highness agrees, of course.”

The King and Gilbert looked at Thomas for his confirmation, which the Frenchman granted with a small nod and a little smile of reassurance for his cousin. They had to start somewhere, a few minutes’ walk in the hallways wouldn’t have hurt.

‘After all, it's just a gesture of courtesy, it's not as if he has some bad intention. Right?’

“All right then. Shall we set out?” Gilbert asked, taking his sister under his arm.

“Join us as soon as you finish” he whispered to his cousin before walking with the Count towards the inside of the building.

All the members of the court left immediately after the King asked his brother to join him in his study, retiring for the afternoon; Charles gave Alexander one last look, then followed his brother. James shook his head slightly at his father's behavior and smiled amused at the thought of his brother alone with the French kid. Later he would force his brother to tell every single part of the conversation, even the smallest pause, but at the moment he would just not disturb further.

Once they were completely alone, an embarrassing silence surrounded the two. Thomas continued to wade at an undefined point on the opposite side of the American prince, while Alexander pondered how to proceed.

‘All right, Alexander. Forget he’s your fiancé, talk to him like you would anyone else.’

“Je peux parler votre langue, si vous préférez, Votre Altesse”, the younger seemed slightly surprised by Alexander's sudden language change.

“Thomas, you can call me Thomas if you want” the younger said. He wasn't sure if he would allow it in different circumstances, but he also didn't like that his ‘fiancé’ considered him so distant that he had to use formal titles. “Thank you, but I’d rather get used to speaking your language.”

Needless to say, Alexander was enormously relieved of that concession and especially by the fact that the prince had turned to look at him.

“Then you must call me Alexander”, he smiled and, not that he would admit it, he was genuinely moved to see the little smile of the Frenchman. “So... before your cousins claim you, may I?” he asked, extending a hand to the younger.

Thomas took the offered hand and let the prince approach him until he entered his personal space. The American was not very tall, Thomas thought that in a few years he would surely have surpassed him, but at the moment he still had to look slightly upwards to look at him well.

“Where are we going?” he asked when the older pulled them away from the entrance to walk towards the right side of the building.

“We enter from one of the side entrances, in the main one there will still be all the members of the Court and I have no desire to hear their eyes on nor their whispers, and I have no intention of letting them look at you as a hunting trophy”, apparently the French prince did not expect such courtesy judging by the little ‘oh’ he let slip. Alexander got a little nervous at the thought that the younger could consider him a selfish careless of his spouse, but then he remembered that the prince had risked marrying the mad King George, so he had probably prepared for the worst.

Once inside Thomas took a moment to observe everything around him; perhaps the reason America needed France's economic support was because all the nation's money ended up in building the palace. Alexander must have noticed Thomas' astonishment.

“Yeah, I know, pretty impressive if you’re not used to it. It was built with the aim of surpassing any other royal dwelling in beauty and grandeur.”

“And I can confirm it has been achieved, at least in my opinion” Thomas replied slightly in awe of the grandeur of the place.

As they climbed the flight of stairs, Alexander briefly explained the structure of the palace: the ground floor was for the general passage and contained mostly the entrance halls, some offices and passages to the upper and lower floors; the first floor (the noble floor) was reserved solely for the royal family and included private living rooms and a private chapel; on the second floor were the most important offices, the rooms reserved for the Council, the councillors’ apartments and those for the most important guests; the third floor was dedicated to the entrainment rooms and the party halls, a theatre, as well as the church and the chambers of the court’s member; the fourth floor was divided between the servants' apartments and the minority kitchens.

Thomas wondered if he should ask what was in the subterranean, but preferred to assume that there were only the main kitchens and guard rooms.

“So what floor are my rooms on?” he asked instead, theoretically he was already engaged to Alexander but, based on what the prince had told him, his cousins had to be on the second floor.

“At the moment they are on the second floor, but obviously, after the wedding, you will be assigned new apartments on the noble floor” Alexander answered before arriving at the corridor leading to the first floor.

Thomas expected them to continue climbing up to the second, but Alexander led him down the hallway past several doors.

The prince wasn’t taking him to his private chambers, was he?

Thomas’ heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that Alexander wanted ‘something’ from him before the wedding? He had thought of the option, but he didn’t really believe it could happen.  
Too soon they arrived where the American was taking them, he left Thomas’ arm to open the door and signal him to enter. Thomas followed him, feeling his legs too heavy, his heart too fast and the air around him decidedly insufficient.

The room was certainly not the atrium leading to the prince’s private chambers, but there was still a bed and Alexander had just closed the door, this did not help to calm the French prince at all.

“So” Alexander began only to freeze as soon as he noticed Thomas’ gaze. God, he was so scared, what could he have done in such a short time to terrorize him to such an extent? The realization hit him like a slap in the face when he saw his own bed. The prince thought he would dare to…?

“No, no! My God, no!”, Alexander was struggling whether to get away from Thomas or to get close to calm him, in the end he stayed where he was. “I would never dare! This is just my study, well, one of my studies, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t bring you here for that.”

The Frenchman seemed to believe him, but he kept to look at the bed with a confused look.

“Sometimes I happen to work late and so I sleep here, more than sometimes actually; my uncle would like me to get rid of this bed, maybe I should.”

Thomas deeply breathed for a few seconds.

“No, you don't have to. I mean, if it somehow helps you, you don't have to get rid of it”, then he quickly composed himself and lowered his eyes, “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have thought that-, I didn't mean to imply that you wanted-”

“Please, don’t apologize! It’s my fault: asking to be alone, taking you to private apartments... It would have been foolish of you not to be alarmed”, Alexander cautiously approached the younger, still remaining at a discreet distance, “Just, let's not talk about it anymore! It was a big misunderstanding, we got scared and clear it up, let's pretend it never happened. Do you agree?”

Thomas nodded, showing once again his shy and embarrassed smile that, at that moment, completely melted Alexander.

“Oh!”, the American prince suddenly remembered why they were in his study, hurried to his desk and took a rectangular container of shiny wood, “Your birthday was eight days ago, but I hope you will still accept this gift” he said, handing the box to the Frenchman.

“You didn’t have to, it was not foreseen by the protocol” Thomas objected, looking at the gift.

Alexander chuckled: “I know, but I didn’t do it for protocol. Please, open it.”

Thomas did as he was asked, once the lid was lifted, he saw a magnificent violin, with small carvings and decorations in mother-of-pearl; he brought his hand on the instrument to caress the wood and the taut strings. It was wonderful, the young man was amazed.

“It’s beautiful... too beautiful. I can’t-”

Alexander didn’t let him finish the sentence: “Please, I’d be offended if you didn’t accept it. I heard you love music, so, if you want to make me happy, I just need the chance to hear you play.”

Thomas looked at the prince, then the violin, and then again at Alexander. Closing the box, he took it from his fiancé hands, a smile of sincere gratitude on his face.

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Alexander.

He hadn’t said his name yet.

For Thomas it was liberating, he felt as if a heavy wall had just collapsed allowing him to feel much lighter and serene.

Alexander, on the other hand, almost thought of asking the prince to repeat it. It was so strange to hear the French say his name, accompanied by another of his wonderful smiles then.

“I should… um, I should take you to your rooms. Leave it to me, I'll take it” he said as Thomas handed the violin back.

On the way to the second floor, both of them could not help but think that perhaps that marriage wouldn’t be all that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea of how many mistakes are in this chapter, but I'm still very proud of it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh, bad and good stuff, I guess?

James stared at his brother with an incredulous smile on his lips. Alexander had reached him in his room an hour earlier and told him everything that had happened with Thomas, struggling to remain seated on the couch.

“Let me understand: you told him that his rooms were on the second floor, you took him to your study where there is a bed in plain sight, he looked at you with the most shocked face you’ve ever seen in your life, and you didn’t immediately understand what it looked like?”

The younger brother could no longer resist and got up abruptly to be able to walk, or rather march, around the room, as he used to do when he was agitated, “Well, excuse me, but how could I have known that of all the possible scenarios he had imagined that?”

“And couldn’t you have told him you had a present for him? Or make him wait outside the door? Or bring him the present after you’ve taken him to his rooms?”

Alexander stopped and stared at the tip of his shoes, murmuring almost to himself: “I hadn’t thought of that”, after a few moments of silence, Alexander raised his head and smiled at his brother, "And then again, I wanted to surprise him, if I had told him I had a present I would have ruined everything, right?"

James watched his brother go back to the loveseat and lie down as if he were in bed, resting his head on James's legs.

“It was worth it, however. You should have seen how he smiled when he took the violin.”

James widened his eyes and lowered his head to look at his little brother, who was staring at the ceiling with a silly smile on his lips. Throwing a slight slap on his face, he asked him in a chanting voice: “Did you fall in love, little Alex?”

The younger one turned his head to the side and quickly rose from his brother’s legs with a grimace.

“No, I didn’t fall in love, I was just glad to see that he liked the present”, James gave a sarcastic whimper that made his brother roll his eyes, “You know, it’s nice to be appreciated once in a while.”

“Oh sure. I don't doubt that's why you're smiling”, James leaned over to his brother pretending a look of pure innocence, “Definitely not for the prince's beautiful curly hair, and certainly not for his dark eyes”, each word was accompanied by a movement of the hands and quick blinks as James got closer and closer to his brother, “And it certainly isn't because of the thought of the prince who smiles at you with gratitude and comes over to thank you with those beautiful lips”. That was the only warning Alexander had before his brother rushed at him to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Kiss me, Alex” continued James as he tried to plant more kisses on his brother’s cheek, who obviously tried to push him away laughing.

“Kiss yourself!” Alexander preferred to fall off the couch rather than push his brother away. Sitting on the ground, the prince rubbed his head and continued to laugh, “How disgusting, aren't you ashamed?!”

“Aren’t you both ashamed?”

Both brothers turned immediately to the door, ready to face whatever Charles wanted from them, but they calmed down slightly seeing that next to their father was uncle George.

“Come on, Charles, let them be! We used to do similar pranks to each other”, the King commented with a hand on his brother’s shoulder."

“Oh, so there was a time when he was a decent person or was he always like this?” asked James quietly enough to be heard only by Alexander, who smiled at the sarcastic question.

“How come we have the honor of having you both in my chambers?”

George raised an eyebrow as a request for peace to James: “Less sarcasm, young man”, the crown prince smiled smugly and the King turned to Alexander, “We heard you gave the prince a violin. It was a very kind gesture, a great first impression!”

James turned to look at his brother laughing, but Alexander stopped him before he could say anything: “Oh, shut up and mind your own business!”

George and Charles exchanged a questioning glance before looking back at the two princes.

“Dinner will be ready soon. As much as I'd like to address this as soon as possible, we'll wait until tomorrow to discuss marriage and your husband's role. However, it already seems obvious to me how to provide dividing the tasks and who will be the pater familias”, Charles paused a second to watch Alexander who was still sitting on the ground, “Although there will definitely be some work to do.”

George closed his eyes waiting for one of his nephews to respond angrily to his brother's comment, which surprisingly didn't come; instead, Alexander smiled at his stepfather and stretched his arms upwards.“

I'm sure there will be some work to do, but I'm also sure my fiancé and I will work on it together; after all, I know who I shouldn't take as example.”

They all remained silent for a few moments, a tense and heavy silence. George really hoped that the French prince could bring a new atmosphere within the family and perhaps, deep down, Charles hoped that too.

“All right... then, I recommend everyone the utmost cordiality tonight: no arguments, no quarrels, no battles with food”, the King turned to his two nephews, “Yes, I'm talking to you two", Alexander and James giggled; all right, they would have done well that night.

“Settle down, I’ll see you in half an hour in the lobby and then we’ll all go in the dining room together; unless Alexander wants to accompany Prince Thomas again”, Alexander blushed violently at his uncle’s joke and swiftly shook his head.

They’d make fun of him forever, wouldn’t they?

\---

On the second floor, the three French were preparing themselves for dinner. Thomas had spent the last hour and a half telling the exact same events of the afternoon at the request of his cousins.

“And that’s all?” Valérie asked for what was to be the seventh time at least.

“I've already told you several times: yes; but if you want, I'll tell you the part where you entered and started asking me a thousand questions”, Thomas looked at himself casually in the mirror, taking an occasional glance at his cousins as he arranged a thin necklace with a small crucifix as a pendant; the two had continued to fidget since Alexander accompanied him to his rooms.

Valérie was fascinated by her cousin’s story: the suspense, the kindness of the American prince, the beautiful violin. Gilbert, however, focused only on the negative details.

“It’s no joke, what if he got his hands on you?”

Thomas looked up to the sky: "But he didn’t. I honestly thought you’d be happy to know that at least he’s not a psychopath."

“We’ll see about that.”

Gilbert couldn't deny that he was intrigued by the kindness of the American prince, but this was still an arranged marriage and what were the chances that it was a happy marriage? Yes, Alexander might have made a good first impression on his cousin, but if he thought he could gain Gilbert's trust with so little he was wrong.

“Gilbert, please”, Thomas walked over to his cousin and took his hand intertwining their fingers together, “I'm not saying he's the best person in this world, I don't trust him blindly; but don't act immediately like you hate him, you won't help me much."

Gilbert reflected for a second on the words of his cousin, not entirely convinced.

“Also” added Thomas with a little complicit smile, “If he’ll do something bad to me, I’ll tell you and you can do whatever you want to him, just like you told me in the carriage. Just to remind you.”

Gilbert swung their hands back and forth for a while, then he loudly snorted: “All right! But I want you to know that I keep him under very close observation.”

The younger smiled at his cousin, “I wouldn't expect anything else from you!”, releasing his cousin's hand, Thomas walked over to Valérie to help her fix the hair she had been struggling with for more than ten minutes.

“My Goodness, how did you put that hair ribbon on?”

Valérie dropped her hands down her hips and leaned her head on the petineuse in front of her.

“It’s not my fault, it’s the stupid hair we all have in this family! Curly and indomitable, they seem to want to incorporate everything around them!”

“Dear God, stay still, I’ll take care of it”, Thomas began to untangle the ribbon from his cousin’s hair, he loved to help her and his sisters fix their hair. He definitely would have missed this a lot.

“You two geese, let’s finish up here and go to the lobby. I don’t know if they are already waiting for us, but better be early than late.”

\---

In the end, the French and the Americans arrive in the lobby at practically the same time and the greetings were somewhat confusing, but George reassured everyone that it wasn't going to be a public dinner and that they could put the formalities slightly aside, which was a relief for both the French and the Americans, the day had already been very tiring and none of them had much desire to face the Court.

After entering the dining hall, the three French and the two American princes looked at the seats at the circular table and then looked at the King again.

“Oh, don't worry, sit where you want, no one will be offended.”

Obviously, Charles sat on his brother’s right, Gilbert decided to sit on the king’s left anyway, as per protocol. Embarrassed and indecisive looks followed from the remaining four, then Thomas sat down next to Charles and Valérie sat down next to her cousin as a result, though both would have liked to remain close to Gilbert; James decided to sit next to the little French girl and so the only place left for Alexander was next to Gilbert.

Once everyone was seated, the menservants began serving the first course. From where they were, Alexander and Thomas could look at each other without any difficulty; the older one easily attracted the attention of the Frenchman by tapping the index finger on the table, when the younger looked at him Alexander pointed to his stepfather with a small movement of his head and moved his lips to say “Sorry”, without however pronouncing it. Thomas smiled and shrugged a little to reassure the American prince, then pointed at his cousin and mimed “Be careful” with his lips. Alexander turned to look at Prince Gilbert at the same time as the Frenchman turned to look at him.

Gilbert smiled sly at the American prince and immediately caught up with him.

“So, my cousin told me about yours... let’s call it walk”, the Frenchman took his chalice as he watched the older one swallow slowly before nodding, “He showed me the violin; you have been very kind.”

Alexander took a moment to think about his next words, he was tempted to turn to look at Thomas again, but he didn't consider it was the wisest choice; instead he decided to indulge the French prince: “It was just a little present for his eighteenth birthday, no big deal. It was very pleasant to spend time with your cousin.”

Gilbert murmured something before drinking a sip from his chalice. He remained a few more seconds in silence before addressing the question that most pressed him: “He also told me about the bed”, the Frenchman stared at the American looking for any reaction on his face, but Alexander remained impassive; he had done nothing wrong and he would be ready to swear it on his love for his mother.

“I know you haven’t touched him, that’s not what I’m suggesting. I want to know if you have a lover.”

“No”, Gilbert’s look might have been serious, but Alexander’s was no different, “I’ve never had any before and I certainly don’t have any now.”

The Frenchman carefully examined the American's face.

“Well, I believe you”, both princes nodded at each other, “Now I have another question: what are your intentions with my cousin?”

Alexander raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to be funny, do I?”

“Definitely not.”

“All right. Then I'll be clear: I am determined to at least build a relationship of friendship and mutual trust; I don't know if there will be anything more between us, but I will never touch him against his will; maybe we'll both find someone else to love, I won't stop him or disrespect him in any way; I will try to fulfil his every wish as much as I can and I will make sure to keep him away from the most 'controversial’ member of the Court”, Gilbert must certainly have appreciated Alexander's statements, because he placed his chalice on the table smiling with satisfaction.

“Well, I hope that’s true”, then his gaze darkened in a split second, “Because if it's not, I wouldn't have any problem looking for you, and then someone could get hurt, very hurt.”

Alexander allowed himself to look at Thomas again, but quickly forgot whatever he wanted to say to the prince when he saw him engaged enough in a conversation with Charles.

What the hell was that man saying to him? He wasn't anticipating the next day's discussion, was he? What if he was telling him about his duties to Alexander and the need for an heir? The prince really thought about hitting him in the face, not too violent to leave permanent marks, but hard enough to make his nose bleed. But Thomas appeared quiet, not uncomfortable, he seemed very focused and agreed on whatever Charles was telling him; Alexander didn’t know how long he stayed watching them, the two stopped talking when the menservants took away the empty plates, and then Charles met his stepson’s eyes smiling. Alexander stared at him for a moment, then turned to James and was very surprised to see him so amused to talk with the little Valérie, also the others at the table had to notice, because soon the attention was all on them two.

“What's so funny?” the King asked, smiling sweetly at both of them. James and Valérie tried to stop laughing, failing miserably.

Gilbert and Thomas looked at each other in confusion and Charles raised an eyebrow at his son.

“Oh, nothing” James cheerfully replied, "The Princess and I have found that we have much more in common than we expected!"

Alexander certainly did not miss the opportunity to make fun of his brother: “It’s because she thinks like a twenty-four-year-old man or because you think like a twelve-year-old girl?”

Thomas and Gilbert laughed heartily at the sight of their cousin and the future King pretending to be offended and indignant, continuing to agitate towards Alexander; George and Charles also smiled at the sight. Yes, the evening was going well, and if the situation stayed that way, the marriage would be fine too.

The rest of the dinner passed peacefully, at the end there was a small fight with the food (much to the King’s chagrin) between James and Valérie who threw some cream towards Alexander, who pulled a strawberry straight into his brother’s glass.

After this little ‘incident’, James and Valérie stood up from the table to imitate the characters of a painting hanging near the fireplace, so Gilbert sat on one of the chairs in the vicinity of the two to keep an eye on his sister; Alexander took advantage of the situation to sit in the chair next to Thomas.

“Hi” he said in a low voice so as not to be heard by his stepfather.

Thomas smiled without looking at the prince: “Hi...”

‘No, come on. Look at me, please.’

Alexander hoped that after their afternoon meeting the prince would be a bit more confidential.

“I hope my father didn’t bother you too much”, Thomas shook his head softly, “May I ask what you talked about?”

“Well", Thomas finally looked at him, “We talked about you, mostly.”

Alexander was genuinely surprised: “Me?”

“Yes, he told me what you do about royal issues and some of your ideas, they seem very interesting”, Alexander was really very confused, Charles had spoken highly of him?

“He also talked to me about some of your interests, but he didn't tell me much, he said he's not too sure he knows what you like.”

“Yes, well, I'm not sure he ever knew” the American said, looking over Thomas to watch Charles talk to his uncle George. No, he wouldn't have ruined the atmosphere.

“Do you like writing?”

“Writing? Uh, sometimes; generally, I find it easier to let my thoughts just stay in my head, I would feel stupid to reread them... No, I prefer reading”, Thomas looked away again as he spoke.

“I don't think you should define your thoughts as ‘stupid’, if you like reading it means that you can reflect critically and compare various currents of thought, I do not consider it a stupid thing”, Alexander observed the blush slightly colouring the cheeks of the Frenchman, “Maybe you could read something of mine and tell me what you think; I’d like to hear your opinion."

Thomas just nodded, so Alexander plucked up courage and finally asked: “Could you-can I ask why you always look away?”

The young prince felt his breath become faster and the room seemed to shrink as far as the eye could see.

“What?”

By now they had started the conversation, Alexander was determined to have an answer: “You always look elsewhere when I speak to you, even now you are not looking at me, why? Do I scare you? Is it because of this afternoon's misunderstanding? Why?”

“I-no, you don’t scare me. I’m just a little bit-I don’t know, maybe I just need to get more familiar with you”, Thomas tried to calm down as quickly as possible; he could do it, Alexander wasn’t attacking him, he just wanted to talk.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

Alexander ignored his question.

“Why you only do this with me? I mean, I saw you keep both my uncle's and my father's gazes and it's not a trivial matter, you even did with my brother. Why with them and not with me?"

“Because I don't have to marry any of them!”

Did he yell? No one was watching them, so he must not have yelled, but Thomas still felt as if he had. Alexander stood staring at him with his eyes slightly wide open, probably he didn’t expect that reaction from the younger. Thomas was having another of his attack, he felt it invade his head and lungs; why was he having it? They had already made it clear that Alexander didn’t want to hurt him, the afternoon had gone well, he thought the marriage would be fine until a few hours ago, so why now he couldn’t look at him again? God, if it kept going, he wouldn't be able to breathe, and then Gilbert would worry and blame Alexander and all the American's work to convince him he wasn't a bad person would be lost.

“Can I withdraw?” he asked, running his hands over his face, as if he wanted to hide from Alexander's eyes.

“But-”

“Please” Thomas interrupted. He was about to explode and he didn't want to do it there, he wanted to lie down on his bed and do his breathing exercises. Alexander looked at him totally confused, what was going on?

“Yeah, yeah… Uhm, you'll have to ask my uncle, but he won't say no”, Thomas nodded quickly starting to get up from his chair, “Do you want me to accompany you?”

The Frenchman's response came painfully immediate: “No, thank you. I wish you a good night; again, I'm sorry.”

“It’s all right...” Alexander whispered more to himself than to Thomas, the French prince had already approached the King to ask permission to withdraw, which the oldest obviously did not deny him; after he approached his cousin to whisper something in his ear, maybe some reassurance about his behavior, and immediately left the room.

Alexander sat looking at the door where his fiancé had just disappeared.

"You exaggerated", Alexander shifted his gaze to Charles, who nevertheless stared straight ahead, “Your mother had similar moments, you know? He felt attacked, you’ll have to find a way to apologize and it’ll have to be pretty effective. I suggest you do it tomorrow, it would be embarrassing if you got married with this unresolved misunderstanding.”

And Alexander hated to admit that Charles was right, he didn't even have the strength to get mad at him for listening to the conversation with Thomas. Was his mother like Thomas? This was a point in favour of the Frenchman, but did it mean that Alexander was like his stepfather? No, he wasn't, he didn't want to be and he wouldn't be, but he made a huge mess with Thomas. Why didn't he know when to shut up? Why hadn't he noticed that the prince wasn’t fine? And they still had to discuss the issue of marriage roles, how much would that hurt him? And he couldn’t tell anyone, not James, not his uncle, Gilbert would kill him if he knew what he’d done to his cousin, especially after he promised not to hurt him, and he had no intention of asking Charles.

‘Are we kidding? You’re Alexander, you don’t need anyone to tell you what to do to make up for your mistakes. You know what you have to do’, and the voice in the American prince’s head was right. He knew what he had to do.

\---

Gilbert and Valérie left the room shortly after their cousin; the youngest continued to talk about whatever Prince James had explained to her, but Gilbert had his head totally elsewhere. Thomas told him that he was going to his room for one of his sudden sleep attacks, but he was not entirely sure that he was telling him the truth.

Arriving at their rooms, the older one told his sister to start settling down for the night and that he would join her to say goodnight shortly thereafter, then he made his way to Thomas's bedroom, at first trying to hear some noise, then he knocked on the door. Hearing no response, he decided to enter anyway. Thomas was lying on the bed and looked like he was actually sleeping, but he was still wearing the shirt and pants he had worn to dinner, so he had surely fallen asleep by accident, which wasn't too unusual for Thomas.

Gilbert looked around for clues, but finding nothing he was convinced that his cousin was really just tired. Usually he would wake him up to put on his clothes for the night, but he decided that this time he would let it be, tomorrow they would have to discuss something not too pleasant and he had not yet had a chance to communicate it to Thomas. With a last glance at his cousin, Gilbert closed the door and headed for his bedroom.

\---

“I’m confused, explain me again how this role thing works”, Valérie had recently woken up on her brother’s orders. Apparently, they had a very important meeting today and they had to get ready as soon as possible.

Gilbert snorted: “Thomas, you do it, I’m tired of repeating the same things over and over.”

“Basically, when a same-sex couple decides to get married, they have to choose which one of them is going to be the pater familias and which one is going to be the ‘lovable consort', which is actually not a role because no one has ever bothered to name the second figure in marriage. And I honestly don’t understand why we should discuss it, it’s obvious that Alexander will be the pater familias”, Thomas stretched and turned his neck, “You could at least wake me up, Gilbert. You always correct us on anything, for once that you could help me you preferred to make me spend a night of absolute discomfort.”

“You were sleeping so well” his cousin teased, “And this is what you deserve for get into bed before changing your dress, let’s see if you get over this bad habit now.”

Thomas was interrupted by his cousin before he could answer: “Excuse me, I have a few more questions. How does it work for the heirs? I doubt either one of you can, you know... I mean, you need-, listen, just explain to me how it works.”

Thomas chuckled at his cousin’s obvious embarrassment before explaining the situation to her: “Faith, darling, faith is the answer to many things. If the couple is blessed with Divine Grace, they are allowed to have a child, on the condition that one of them endures all the pains that a pregnant woman would normally feel, and of course it’s never the pater familias who does it.”

Valérie remained silent for a while, then asked again: “So, if the child is with that person only spiritually and not physically, how is it born? Where does it come from? Does it appear out of nowhere?”

“Kind of…” Thomas said, smiling at the sight of Gilbert massaging his temples, “In a nutshell, after having suffered like a poor dying beast, the ‘lovable consort' is the only one who can see the child, they say that it appears directly in his arms or in his cradle, sometimes even in the arms of the other companion. Don’t ask me how it’s possible because I have no idea, I’ll settle for the answers I already have.”

Gilbert headed for the door with a deep sigh.

“Enough, let's go.”

“What about breakfast?” Valérie protested indignantly and hungry.

“We’ll do it during the meeting with the King and the Royal Family, you’ll do it with the Count Schuyler’s daughter in the living room next door.”

Valérie looked first at her brother and then at her cousin, then almost shouted: “Then why the heck did you make me wake up so early?!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes.

“If we don't involve you, you get angry because we don't; if we involve you, you get angry because we do. Make up your mind, child.”

\---

The room that was chosen for discussion was strangely gloomy, perhaps because of the dark mahogany furniture and the narrow curtains. Thomas hadn't listened too much to what the others were saying, he already knew how the discussion would end, it was just a formality; he was much more interested in watching, as far as the curtains allowed, the palace gardens. He doubted that he would have a chance to visit them before the wedding, certainly not now at least. Somehow, the thought of the gardens managed to calm him more than the tea he had drunk just before the meeting, he didn't even feel so agitated for Alexander anymore.

He actually had thought of apologizing for last his night’s behavior, but what if after he approached him, he had another attack? He had to get over this constant insecurity, it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“Do you agree, Thomas?”, the King’s voice brutally brought young prince back to reality, now all eyes were on him.

Agree on what?

“Uh...”, Thomas looked at his cousin for some hint, seeing Gilbert nodding almost imperceptibly was more than enough, “Yes, of course.”

Both George and Charles seemed particularly pleased with the prince’s response, and James gave a small pat on his brother’s shoulder.

Smiling at the four Americans, Thomas approached his cousin to whisper: “Qu’est-ce que je viens d’accepter?”

Gilbert imitated his cousin’s smile by keeping a clear warning in his eyes. “Le rôle de pater familias de ton fiancé et ton mariage demain”, Thomas let his smile slip for a moment and Gilbert immediately added, “Don’t panic, we'll talk about it once we get out of here.”

Thomas nodded, quickly regaining the obligatory smile by returning to look at the four Americans, no one seemed to have anything else to say.

“And now?” Thomas asked to all present, “What do we do?”

They all seemed to think about it for a moment.

“Well” the King began, “If no one has anything against it, I would start calling the tailors, if they have to fix something in your clothes it is better to hurry.”

It made sense, Thomas didn't even have the faintest idea what he was going to wear and probably the measurements needed to be double-checked.

It was Gilbert's turn to suggest something: “If you agree, we could discuss the various agreements and final preparations together in the afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, I think it's a great idea”, George then turned to Alexander and Thomas, “I guess it's going to be a very long day for you two. I think no one will complain if, after the tailors have finished, you want to distract yourself a bit; take it as a day away from your duties, tomorrow will be a rather busy day.”

Both princes nodded, it would have been nice to have an almost completely free day.

“All right, then go! I don’t want to see you until tonight!” the sovereign said jokingly.

“Tonight?” Alexander asked slightly confused, “Aren't we going to have lunch together?”

This time it was Charles who replied: “I'm afraid the rest of us will be too busy to allow ourselves the luxury of sitting down and having a leisurely lunch, but go ahead you two.”

Was Charles offering him to spend time with the prince? Maybe to give Alexander a chance to make things right? Why was he doing this? No, he certainly just wanted Alexander to 'keep good’ his fiancé, he would have no other reason to help them if not to take advantage of it.

“If I were you, I would have already left the room. The sooner you finish with the dresses, the sooner you can do what you want.”

Thomas did not have it repeated again, perhaps he could not visit the gardens, but he could definitely play violin for a while or visit the royal library. He quickly greeted those present and headed to his rooms, should he have recovered Valérie? No, she was probably having a good time and he wouldn’t mind some time alone, even if he would have had plenty of time alone soon.

Was he a bad person for not wanting the company of his cousins even knowing that soon he would not see them for who knows how long?

‘Oh, it’s just for a couple of hours. Stop making troubles to yourself all the time!’

\---

The dress rehearsal lasted longer than Thomas had anticipated, but he had to admit that he liked his dress, the various shades of purple had always suited him and, luckily for him, he had managed to get most of the lace and jewellery removed.

Wandering through the corridors, Thomas set out to find his cousin and the library, but soon gave up on both; Valérie was certainly still around with Count Schuyler's daughter and certainly had no intention of getting lost looking for the library.

But his research was not entirely vain: in one of the smaller living rooms there was a piano that overlooked a window. What more could he ask for? After all, the piano was there to be played, it wouldn’t bother anyone, right?

Sitting on the stool he stroked the keys with his fingertips, there were scores on the lectern but he didn't need them, maybe he would have looked at them later.

The expert fingers moved delicate and elegant on the keys, playing the first notes of one of Thomas’s favourite musical motifs. The more he kept playing, the more he got lost in his world, and it wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and let himself completely go into his memories.

He remembered his first piano lesson: he was seven years old and his aunt Adélaïde made him sit on his lap while playing. After she had finished, Thomas pressed one of the keys and looked at her with eyes full of pure enthusiasm; there was no need to ask her to teach him, a second later she was already arranging her nephew’s hands in the right position.

So focused on his own memories and music, the prince did not hear either the door being opened or the steps approaching the piano. With a final harmonic turn, Thomas let the keys rest and granted himself a liberating sigh.

“It was just perfect.”

The Frenchman suddenly opened his eyes and turned to look at Alexander a few steps away from him.

“Complements, it was very beautiful. Who is the composer?”

Thomas took his hands off the piano replying: “No one, it was something we had written with my aunt years ago, nothing special. But thanks for the compliment.”

Alexander conceded that silence fell for five seconds, then came forward: “Can I get closer?”, he cared to ask him, he didn't want to be too impetuous again and didn't want the prince to feel ‘trapped’.

However, Thomas didn't seem to be as distraught as he had been the night before, in fact he surprised Alexander by offering him much more than he bargained for: "You can sit here with me if you want."

Of course he wanted.

The younger waited for Alexander to take a seat next to him before speaking again.

“So”, he took a deep breath and then looked the American straight in the eye, which Alexander obviously didn't expect, “It's not very easy for me, so let me speak, please. I'm really sorry about last night, it wasn't your fault. I've never had anything to do with this kind of thing, I've never had any love interests, and suddenly having one for political reasons doesn't exactly help me. I don't like speaking in public, I don't like being the center of attention, I can be confident and serene only when I'm with people I know and trust.”

Alexander wanted to interrupt him so many times, but at the same time he wanted to hear every single thing the prince was telling him.

“Now, I want to be able to feel good with you, even just as friends, and I promise I’ll work hard to try to get over my... my ‘panic attacks’, but it will take some time”, Thomas looked at Alexander waiting for something before remembering that he had asked him to listen without interrupting, “Now you can talk.”

“Well, you asked me to do the impossible”, they both smiled at the statement, “I too wanted to apologize for yesterday, I realize that my tones can easily seem accusatory or provocative and I never wanted you to feel bad in that way.”

Luck had to be on his side today because, when he moved to take Thomas's hand, he let him do it.

“I don’t want ours to be an empty marriage, I don’t expect anything from you. We just have to give ourselves a chance, I promise I will be able to be near you in times of crisis and away when you ask me; from now on we’ll face the problems together. So my question is: how can I help you feel better?”

Thomas was impressed by Alexander’s words, he did not expect him to accept his attacks that well, and he also wanted to help him overcome them!

“Well, I don’t know... maybe we should just let things happen and we could start by spending the day together?”, Thomas was very insecure about the last part, perhaps Alexander did not want to spend his last day before the wedding with Thomas, which was why he prepared to look away.

But the prince smiled happily and slowly carried a hand under Thomas's chin to make him meet his eyes again: “I can't imagine anything else I'd like more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I forgot to tell you that I imagine the palace ideantical to the Royal Palace of Caserta. Shame on me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of fluff (enjoy it while you can).

Alexander would have been a liar if he had claimed that he had not leaned over with the intention of making the prince's lips meet his own. He hadn't come there for that, he just wanted to clarify what had happened the previous evening; but after what they had just said it seemed the right thing to do, the only thing to do, and Thomas was so attractive in that moment that the prince didn't even remotely think about the possibility of being rejected.

Fortunately, and somehow unfortunately, a new entry into the room stopped the American prince's intentions in the bud before it was too obvious which they were. He let go of the prince's chin abruptly and pulled back away, far enough from the Frenchman's face, to make it appear that the two princes were simply having an intimate discussion (which wasn’t entirely a lie).

“Ah, you’re here. You’re both here” James corrected himself, moving his gaze from Alexander to Thomas, he had a slight suspicion that his brother went looking for the Frenchman, “I've been looking for you all over the first floor, damn you.”

“Poor thing, you fatigued?” Alexander asked sarcastically raising an eyebrow, “What are you doing here, James? I thought you had the whole day busy.”

The older brother grimaced at the thought of his commitments.

“I only forgive you because thanks to your elusiveness I can once again see your beautiful fiancé. Hi, Thomas.”

  
  
James took a second to watch the French prince smile at him with slightly red cheeks.

“Hello again, James. Your brother is right though, how did you manage to free yourself from my cousin and the others?”

“Oh, I told them I was going to ask you if you prefer I don't remember what and that I would be right back” James replied smiling proud of himself, “I’m such a good liar.”

Alexander snorted at his brother turning to Thomas: "See in whose hands will America be? We are ruined. I suggest we move to France soon after his, hopefully very future, coronation."  
  


The Frenchman smiled amused by the dynamic of the two brothers, so similar to that between him, his sisters and his cousins.

“Let's stay at least a week or two, I'd like to see what the new Sodom and Gomorrah would be like!”

Surely neither Alexander nor James expected such a joke, they both exchanged a glance before looking at the younger prince again. Then Alexander burst out laughing as he leaning his elbows heavily on the piano, which obviously caused a not too pleasant sound.

James, on the other hand, stood gaping at the French prince trying not to laugh.

“Biblical insults, what do I have to hear?! And from you, then! You broke my heart, I thought there was something between us!”

Thomas raised his chin and squinted his eyes in a sign of superiority, before answering with feigned smugness: “I'm afraid it would never work between us, and not just because you will become my brother-in-law tomorrow, but mostly because you're not my kind ideal romantic relationship.”

If possible, Alexander laughed even louder than before, seeing his brother being jokingly destroyed in pride by his almost husband was hilarious in his eyes.

James pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye and sniffed slightly.

“Well, since I'm not appreciated here, I'm leaving. You were doing great on your own anyway”, Alexander's laughter stopped immediately and his eyes widened at the comment, he had no doubt that James understood what he was about to do when he entered the room.

James put his hand on the doorknob at the same moment that the door opened completely to let Valérie and another girl in while they laughed holding hands, the two began to say something, but speaking in unison the others didn’t understand much. James looked at them amused and turned to his brother: “And instead I think I'll stay here; the company has just become more pleasant.”

Valérie went to her cousin without letting go of the girl's hand.

“Thomas, Thomas! You absolutely must-, why are you looking at me like that?” the little French girl took a second to look around the room, then she was enlightened, “Oh, sure! Highnesses, good morning!”

“Good morning to you, sunshine” replied James approaching the other girl to take her hand, “Who is the divine beauty that you brought with you?”

The girl blushed violently and awkwardly removed her hand from that of the prince: “Margarita Schuyler, Highness, but I prefer to be called Peggy”, then turned to Alexander and Thomas for a quick bow.

Valérie intervened again: “Thomas, you absolutely must take Peggy in your private circle of friends!”

“Yes, Thomas, you must take her!” agreed James.

The directly concerned found himself slightly confused by the sudden change of events: “I would be happy to do it, but maybe we should talk about it in another moment, I’m afraid it’s a more formal matter than anything else.”

“He's right, little one, these two don't want to have anything to do with formalities today, let them have fun”, a diabolical smile appeared on the crown prince's face, “Indeed, why don't you get distracted by playing a nice duet on the piano?”

Alexander smiled falsely at his brother: “I'm afraid I’m not excellent as much as Prince Thomas at the piano.”

“Nonsense” James said as he approached the piano to leaf through the scores, “Here, this will be fine: Monteverdi, prologue of the Orpheus.”

Both Alexander and Thomas quickly looked at the score, it wasn't too difficult, the Frenchman had already got an idea of the style and turned to look at the older one waiting to start playing.

After Alexander nodded they began to play, albeit with some initial difficulty, in fact they had to stop when they reached the twelfth bar.

“Am I going too fast for you?” the American asked smiling.

“I think you are going too fast even for Monteverdi, but if this is the rhythm you want to maintain, I will follow you.”

Well, maybe Alexander took it as a personal challenge.

Restarting the piece from the beginning, the American went even faster, missing some passages during the performance, but that didn't matter.

Thomas for his part gave no signs of abating, nor did he seem to miss the slightest note; Alexander wanted to go fast? Speed is what he would have got.

The hands moved fast and snappy on the piano, occasionally swapping positions; Alexander seemed determined to conquer the highest keys on the French side and Thomas reached the low ones abandoned on the American side, making their fingers to touch each other in the various octave exchanges.

The end of the piece came as impetuous as the beginning and was accompanied by heavy breaths from both princes and the enthusiasm of the other three in the room.

“You’re pretty good” Thomas said to Alexander, “But you have your own idea of rhythm and you should practice at least one hour a day.”

Alexander smiled at that.

“Yeah, well, I was curious to see if you could really keep up with me. And I'm afraid I won't be able to afford an hour a day at the piano, at least not during this period.”

Of course he didn't have time, he had to deal with the war against England, the economic problems, the resources and the recruitments. He had absolutely no time for music.

“You know what?” he whispered, “Let's make up an excuse and run away”, Thomas looked out of the corner of his eye at the other three who were talking before nodding, smiling at the older. “Good, let’s go!”

As they approached the door, the two were stopped by Valérie and James, each more determined than the other to know where the two were going.

In a somewhat messy and confused manner, the two future husbands mulled over something about an emergency meeting with the tailors. Nothing really believable, but it gave Thomas time to leave the room and Alexander to step out before being grabbed by his brother.

“Then I guess that if I go to your room in, let’s say, ten minutes, will I find you there? I don’t think so”, a sly smile appeared on Alexander's face, but James knew how to get him through. “You play very well together, you've touched him often enough for a duet of that type.”

Alexander actually stopped smiling and looked up embarrassed over his brother's head.

“It was a difficult piece at that speed” and then he ran away from his brother having just enough time to hear him murmur a decidedly unconvinced ‘mh-mh’.

Thomas was waiting for him just a couple of doors away. Alexander took his hand and lead him almost to the end of the hallway, both laughed foolishly.

“Where do we go?”

“Uh...”, Alexander looked around continuing towards the stairs, but roughly stopped after hearing footsteps coming towards them and so he opened the first door that was next to him, “This way!”

To be honest, Alexander had no idea who the room they had just entered was, but judging by the decor it must have belonged to some Council member.

“Alexander... are you sure we can stay here?”

The American turned to look at the Frenchman who was still holding his hand, still smiling: “I am the second heir to the throne, I can stay wherever I want! And then we won't be there for long, follow me”, having said that, Alexander neared one of the walls and began to touch it.

“It should be here... Ah, found it!”

With a little push, the older one opened a door in the wall.

“It's a passage ... I didn't think there were passageways”, it was not as if Thomas had never seen one, in the French palaces there were many, even if he and Gilbert used them mostly to prank the rest of the family.

Perhaps he was just surprised that they were also built in a relatively recent building like the American one, after all the French ones had been there for almost two centuries; even if it wasn’t so strange to think about it, every palace has its secrets.

“Yes, they’re almost everywhere, even in your rooms. Haven’t you noticed?”, Thomas shook his head in response, he hadn't been particularly attentive to his room, since that was his last day there.

They walked to the end of the passage that ended with modest wooden stairs: “Let's go up” declared Alexander, “I have an idea.”

They continued to go up to what Thomas considered to be the fourth floor since there were no other stairs to climb.

“Isn’t this the servant’s floor?”

“Yes, it is”, Alexander said slightly pulling a door to himself to peek out, “All right, let’s act like we have a good reason to be here and if someone asks us something-”  
  
“We stare at them like we’re ready to kill anyone?” Thomas suggested.

The older one stared at him for a moment before nodding with a smirk: “Yes, it will work”, then he went back to peek out, “Good, we go... now!”

This time they came straight into the corridor and Alexander made his way again through several doors.

“Reliable sources have told me that you can climb, could you do it in a while?”

Well, that was an unusual request from a prince.

“I could do it right now if I wanted to”, actually Thomas couldn't wait to do it.

They went on turning into a corridor to the right, then another and passed a waitress who stepped aside as soon as she saw them coming.

Alexander stopped in the middle of the hallway in front of a door and entered without hesitation, unlike Thomas who opposed a slight resistance by pulling the hand of the American towards himself.

“Hey, trust me, I’ve done this a bunch of times before”, Alexander waited for the Frenchman to nod before letting him into the room. It was full of wooden boxes stacked on top of each other and furniture covered with white sheets.

“Hardly anyone ever comes here, it has become almost a warehouse. And as in every warehouse...”, the American let the hand of the younger to take something from the ground behind what was to be a sofa, “There’s a ladder”, he looked up prompting the French to do the same, “And there’s a connection hatch. Or suspended ceiling, if you prefer.”

Thomas found the absurdity of the situation fascinating and was also sufficiently amused by the sight of his future husband climbing the ladder as best as he could.

“Are you sure you don't want me to go up first? You don't seem to be doing very well.”

The comment and Alexander's stubbornness to respond caused him to err in putting his foot on a step. Thomas feared he was about to fall but calmed down when he saw the older grumbling something, regaining balance.

“Shut up and start climbing.”

Thomas rolled his eyes but did as the prince had told him, curiosity was killing him at that point, from what he could see beyond the hatch there wasn’t much beyond the dark and this added a hint of fear to curiosity. Well, more than a pinch.

By now Alexander had disappeared into the darkness of the hatch and Thomas heard the prince rumbling as he was hoisting himself on the floor of the suspended ceiling.

“Alexander?” he called in the dark.

“This way”, the voice came from the left, “Just give me a second.”

There was an annoying creak and then everything was suddenly surrounded by light.

“Here, you can climb now.”

And then Thomas watched Alexander come out of the small window making his way onto what was the palace's roof. This was absurd even for Thomas, if they had slipped they would surely have died, but as he got closer he became more and more convinced that it wouldn’t happen: the roof was much wider than he expected and it was also quite flat, so the young French stopped worrying and leaned out to join the American.

All right, maybe they were doing something crazy, maybe crossing hidden passages and climbing up into the darkness of a suspended ceiling was not the most brilliant thing they could do, maybe risking to kill themselves by falling from 118 feet was not a too wise choice; but it was definitely worth it.

The view from up there was one of the most breathtaking things Thomas had ever seen in his life, he felt to towering over everything he saw, even the woods next to the palace. Turning cautiously on himself, he observed the road that had brought him here from the port, the ocean seemed very close and glistened in the light from the burning sun.

“The sea... There’s the sea” he whispered breathlessly.

“Uh, yeah, you came here in America with a ship and you’re looking at it right now, so I guess that there’s the sea”, Alexander had observed the younger’s face all the time not to miss his reaction to the sight, but he was definitely amused by his statement on the sea, after all, it was not as if he didn’t know that it was there.

“It's so close”, in France he didn't often have the chance to see the sea, it usually only happened for a month during summer, “Do you think we can go there sometime?” he asked without thinking.

Ouch. Sore point for both of them.

“I mean, it's not necessary, in fact forget it, I don't know why I asked.”

“No, no!” Alexander immediately reassured him, “We can go there, it's not a problem! I don't have a great relationship with water, but if you promise me you won't throw me in it, I'll be happy to take you to the beach sometime.”

He was supposed to talk about the water issue with Thomas, but decided he would do it in the future, perhaps after seeing how their relationship progressed during their marriage.

“I don't know about you, but I'm sitting down” he said, wanting to change the subject. He waited to see if Thomas did the same, which fortunately he did even if he sat down to a certain distance from him.

Alexander gave a little cough before continuing to speak: “I'm sorry about the pater familias story and all. That wasn't what you were hoping for, was it?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment before answering him, keeping his gaze fixed in the distance on the sweet shimmer of the sea: “Actually, I think I always knew it would be like this, from an early age; I'm not like Gilbert, battlefields and all that military stuff aren't for me. Yet I'll tell you, I don’t mind that much. I mean, yes, it’s a little weird, and the idea of pain makes me a lot of anxiety, but at least I can feel the 'little thing' with me the whole time, I think it’s worth it. And until you treat me like the weak part of the couple or oe of your property , I won’t have much to complain about.”

It made sense, although Alexander had to admit that he somehow saw the Frenchman as the weakest, but it was probably due to the fact that his ego refused to admit that someone might be as strong as or more than him.

Then Thomas’ features softened and a tired smile appeared on his lips: “I would like a girl.”

Alexander was surprised by that.

“I thought you’d rather have a boy, you know, to get it over immediately.”

“Yes, sure, and I do want a boy. I just... I don't know, for what I've imagined of my future I have always seen a little girl who runs towards me with the most beautiful smile ever seen in this world and stammers me to play with her, and we would speak French, so our secrets would be safe, and we would take long walks in the gardens and in the woods. I know we need a boy for the dynasty and all, maybe that's why I'd like a girl: she'd be all mine”, Thomas met Alexander's eyes with a little smile, “It doesn't sound too bad.”

The American returned the smile to the younger: “No, it's not bad at all.”

And then that feeling returned, that instinct that told him to get closer to the prince and taste his lips. God, what was happening to him today?

“Are you hungry?” he asked looking away, trying to push away his decidedly inappropriate desire, “It's getting hot, who knows what time it is...”

“Judging by the sun and your stomach, I'd say maybe it's half past one in the afternoon.”

“Well, I suggest we snatch something from the kitchen downstairs and spend the afternoon outside” he said, standing up carefully.

Thomas imitated him almost immediately, but was slightly confused by the prince’s plans: “Outside?”

“You looked at the gardens during the whole meeting this morning”, Alexander smiled pleased at the blush that invaded Thomas's cheeks, “It would be rude of me not to let you visit them.”

\---

In the end they took much more than something from the kitchens, Alexander had no idea who that pheasant was for but now it was theirs and the servants asked nothing when they found the two princes sitting in one of the minority kitchens eating as if it were the most normal thing in the world. They remained there long enough, perhaps an hour or an hour and a half, to prepare to face the atrocious heat again. Alexander also stole some cookies before they left.

This time they avoided the hidden passages, both of them were quite tired and preferred the wide stairways and corridors to the narrow dark passages, although Alexander insisted for them hurry through the third floor (probably because most of the Court’s members frequented it).

As they went down the second floor, they both wondered what their relatives were doing: Was James back at work? Was Charles causing trouble? Had Gilbert already tried to smash his head on the table or was it too soon?

Well, it was none of their business, Alexander recalled, they had the day off.

“So” the older prince spoke as they reached the ground floor, “How far are you willing to walk?”

The question made Thomas chuckle softly.

“In the gardens? I could walk there for days without ever stopping.”

“I like this answer. Can I?” he asked jokingly, extending a hand to the Frenchman.

“You can” replied the younger according to the game.

Thomas had to admit that it wouldn't be bad to live here, it was objectively a beautiful place. Perhaps, if the relationship between him and Alexander had remained the same as it had been that day, they could do these things more often: escape from everyone else, take refuge in the solitude of the gardens or in the adrenaline climb of the terrace.

‘Yes’ he thought watching Alexander lay on the fresh grass covered by the shadow of the palace, ‘Maybe it won’t be so bad.’

\---

“Well, it was certainly a particular and pleasant day” Thomas said as he returned to his chambers accompanied by a visibly annoyed Alexander.

The prince almost waved his left hand in the face of his French fiancé: “Particular yes, pleasant definitely not.”

“You can't say that just because you were stung by a bee, it was your fault: if you had left it alone instead of fidgeting all the time, it wouldn't have stung you!”

“Couldn't it be the one to leave me alone?! I just wanted to pick a flower, that overgrown gnat could have flown somewhere else!”, and he got the flower anyway and now it was safe in his uninjured hand. Get this, stupid bee.

Thomas shook his head with resignation: “All right, then the next time a bee bothers you, remind it that if it dares to stings you, you have the power to have it executed, let’s see if this convinces the poor insect.”

“I'll threaten it to commit an ‘beecide’, I will kill it and its whole lineage.”

Thomas’ laughter and Alexander's threats continued until they reached the door of the Frenchman’s rooms.

Oh right, that was his last night there.

Thomas looked away from the door to be able to look at Alexander.

“So, this is my last destination for today”, both nodded slowly, slightly embarrassed, “Yeah... then see you tomorrow” he said crossing the threshold.

“Sure, see you tomorrow.”

Alexander suddenly remembered something as Thomas was about to close the door: “Wait! Um, you keep it”, he handed him the white camellia that had cost him his pride and his left palm, “I don't want to have any memory of that bee and then it looks better on you.”

‘Oh sure, Alexander, as if you hadn't caught it on purpose to put it in his extraordinary curls.’

Thomas swung his gaze from the camellia to Alexander before accepting it with a sweet smile.

“Thanks Alexander, I’ll keep it safe from the bees. I wish you a good night.”

Thomas had closed the door by now, but Alexander still whispered: “Goodnight.”

Heavenly goodness, by this time tomorrow they would be married.

By this time tomorrow they would be in the same bedroom.

By this time tomorrow they would not have prepared for sleep.

‘So what? Are you nervous or eager?’

Alexander began to find fascinating how the voice in his head was the same as his when he was calm but transformed into his brother's when it wanted to make fun of him.

Well, as punishment he would slap James as soon as he saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm so slow... BUT the next chapter is all about the wedding and their first night!  
> Mammina mia, give me the strenght.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a looong chapter, so many errors.  
> Also: they'll consume the wedding. If you don't want to read it, skip from "Without saying a word", till "For a couple of seconds".
> 
> Ps: I just found out that my writing program is homophobic and has decided to change most of pronouns to she/her without my permission. I'm so sorry, I hope I fixed it.

As you can imagine, the morning of that June 30th was anything but quiet and peaceful.

Both Alexander and Thomas had been thrown out of their beds an hour after dawn, or thereabouts, to prepare themselves both physically and spiritually; James had threatened with death anyone who tried to wake him up again; Gilbert had spent the whole time shouting in French and helping his cousin and sister; Valérie was literally sleeping on her feet and with her eyes open; George probably hadn't sleep a wink all night and kept giving directions to the right and left flanked by Charles.

No, it wasn't an easy morning at all.

Thomas tried to hold back a yawn as he watched Gilbert tighten little Valérie’s corset laces. 

“I know it sounds a little weird to ask, but could I know what time I'm getting married?”

With a sort of growl of frustration, due to his sister’s lack of cooperation, the heir to the throne of France replied to his cousin: “In the late morning. We have to be in the cathedral by half past eleven, but I’m sure nothing will start before noon. By the way, while you were out trying to kill yourself, King George and I decided that the celebration would take place during mass, Prince James had only requested the exchange of vows.”

Ah, that was good news for Thomas. But he hadn't been able to go to church for more than two weeks and consequently hadn't even confessed, so the thought of sneaking into the third-floor chapel began to make its way into his mind. He just had to wait for the right moment when Gilbert was distracted enough not to notice him.

For the time being, all he had to do was try to stay still while the tailors worked out the final details of the dress.

\---

On the noble floor the situation was very similar, with the difference that the one shouting and protesting was Alexander, who had not taken too well neither the decision of the extended rite nor the request of his uncle to confess before going to the cathedral.

He didn’t understand why he would have to go and blurt out his thoughts and secrets to a fat old churchman who probably considered even the mere act of breathing a sin to atone for.

‘And then, if God were angry about something I did, I’m sure he would have found a way told me' he repeated himself for the umpteenth time that morning.

“Are you still prepping up?”, his brother’s head popped out from behind the bedroom door, waiting to see if he could get into the room.

“I’m trying to get this damned thing to stay still before I throw it out of the blasted window!” the younger replied irritated, he had quarrelled with his clothes and accessories as soon as he finished the bath due to the constant and messy flow of thoughts that confused his mind.

“I hate these stupid things. Stupid dress, stupid medals, stupid formality. I bet even Thomas would have agreed to get married with a simple rite instead of this endless, ridiculous, embarrassing ceremony.”

James made his way to his brother and took the medal out of his hands, pinning it in an appropriate manner to the expensive fabric of his suit waistcoat, then began to adjust his slightly wrinkled linen cravat.

“Thomas, huh? No 'Prince Thomas', or 'His Highness', or 'my fiancé'?”

Alexander shifted from foot to foot, snorting with his eyes turned to the right corner of the ceiling: “No, James. Do you know why? Because, in less than five or six hours, Thomas will be my husband; in a way he already is, which is why I don't feel the need to address him with formal titles and I hope he thinks that too”, he knew he was hard and at times impatient, but that's how he was, when he was nervous he would get angry with anyone for the slightest thing.

Luckily, James was accustomed to his brother's mood swings and peculiar character, so he just raised an eyebrow slightly as he walked away to take the elegant coat to complete the military uniform.

“All right, sorry. Changing the subject, are you going to confess or will you just pretend, as usual?”

“Hey, you said that, not me” said the younger with the sides of his lips slightly raised.

\---

The chance to escape was offered to Thomas by Peggy, who was summoned to help mainly the groom and Valérie when Gilbert himself was forced to leave them to go get ready.

The girl wandered closer under the pretext of arranging a rebellious curl of the prince to whisper to him: “If you want to leave, do it now”, and as he went up the steps to the third floor, Thomas couldn’t have been more grateful to the noble girl.

Halfway up the flight of stairs, he met Duke Charles coming down.  
“Darling, not that I’m going to stop you, but may I ask where are you headed?”

“Ah, I, uh...”, Thomas took courage, it wasn’t like he was doing something bad, “I wanted to go to confession and maybe spend some time alone praying in the chapel. Uhm, your son told me it’s on the third floor.”

Charles looked almost sweetly at the young boy in front of him.

“I see… but if it's the privacy you're looking for, I doubt you'll find it there. Instead, I suggest you go to the private royal chapel, you are practically part of the family now, and I seriously doubt that there is anyone at this time, or at others”, the Duke looked at the French face, who was clearly weighing his options.

“I can take you there if you want, I don't have much to do” he continued, offering him his arm.

Taking his decision, Thomas nodded, gratefully smiling at his near-father-in-law and let himself be taken underarm before retracing his steps and descending to the first floor.

“How come you were on the third floor?”, he had to stop asking questions before thinking, “I'm sorry, not that it's any my business, I shouldn't have asked.”

But Charles seemed amused by the little Frenchman and not offended at all: “Soon it will be your business too. And to answer your question, I had a rather delicate matter to attend to, but I don’t want to bore you with my problems. After all, today is your day, you should be happy and carefree.”

They continued for a while in silence, then left the stairs to continue down the hallway on the first floor, the American spoke again: “Your dress is really beautiful, but then again, you are beautiful; you would be great with anything on” Charles observed with the corner of his eye the prince lower his gaze blushing, “It's not just me, Alexander is thrilled with you. He wasn't particularly interested in your marriage until two days ago; you must have conquered him.”

“I... I'm sorry.”

Charles looked at him confused.

“Why should you? Your marriage is starting very well, both my sons appreciate you and you have the complete sympathy of me and the sovereign.”

At that Thomas raised his head to meet the Duke’s eyes: “Hey, you didn’t hear that from me, all right?” he asked with a little wink.

Thomas nodded letting out a slight chuckle, grateful for the confidence he was receiving from his almost father-in-law. As they turned a corner, he decided to confide in something that had been tormenting him ever since he knew he was going to get married: “Your Highness, may I ask you-, as for, uh... After the wedding-”

Charles guessed: "You want some advice for tonight. You’re scared", it wasn't a question, he knew it was that, the prince was shouting it in every possible way except with his voice.

Thomas nodded embarrassed, he knew it would be pointless to ask Gilbert and it was not as if there were many others with whom he would talk about such a thing.

“That’s normal, but you have no reason to be, Alexander doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Even though Alexander himself had already made it clear, Thomas was reassured to hear it from someone else too.

“But what should I do once in bed?”

“This will come by itself; you will find your own dynamic and I assure you that it will be much better than following the suggestions of someone outside your relationship”, he finished the sentence just as they arrived in front of the chapel door.

Charles would have left him alone immediately, but a sudden and unexpected thought burst into his mind: “I can only suggest one thing: if he says or does something that makes you feel uncomfortable or that you don't like, let him know right away; I'm sure he will stop immediately.”

“What if he doesn't stop?”

The answer came to Thomas in the form of a compassionate gaze.

Oh, he would have to accept his husband's decision. Of course.

Charles accompanied the prince inside the private chapel before letting go of his arm, and the young Frenchman hastened to make the sign of the cross with his now free hand. Charles looked at him, shaking his head slowly: “I fear that you are too innocent for this palace”, noticing the French’s confused look he asked: “Didn’t your father ever explain to you how things work in the court?”

“No, Your Highness. I am not entirely unaware, but what little I know I owe to my mother and my late uncle. My father fell in the Battle of Hougue when I was ten, he didn’t have the chance to teach me much.”

“Oh, I didn't know, I'm sorry”, and he really was, “It must not have been easy.”

The prince simply shrugged his shoulders as he sat on one of the wooden benches.

“It was mostly weird not having him around all of a sudden. I think it had a strong impact in my view of things”, a rather negative impact, Thomas was sure most of his problems of behavior and insecurity stemmed from his father’s death.

Charles was silent, hesitant. He wasn't sure he could and want to do such a thing, Alexander would surely hate him as soon as he found out. But, after all, he already hated him, didn't he? He might as well do what he thought was right.

“I know I'm not the ideal father at all, James and Alexander will tell you in any way they can. I have done, I continue to do and will make an infinite number of mistakes that keep me further away from my role as a parent. But if you ever feel like you want to talk to someone, or if you're looking for advice, or even just moral support… well, I'd love to be there for you, if you'll let me.”

To be honest, Charles didn't know what to expect from the prince, maybe a ‘thank you’ or something like that; which is why his heart raced when Thomas, smiling, replied: “It will be wonderful to have a father to turn to again.”

“And it's wonderful for me to have a new chance with another son.”

‘You already have your own sons. He's not here for you, he's here to give Alexander an heir. You will disappoint him as you have done with everyone in your family.’

No. This time it would have been different. It had to be different.

“I leave you to your prayers. I will see you in the church” and he left the chapel without adding anything else.

\---

The road to the cathedral was unexpectedly short, at least shorter than Thomas and Alexander had imagined, so it was probably due to both being totally in their thoughts.

They did not even expect much participation from the people, after all it was not the wedding of the future king, but the atmosphere was one of absolute celebration and happiness. Perhaps people were looking for something to feel united with after a period of rather tense foreign diplomacy, and it was no doubt that they wanted to see the 'little Frenchman' who was about to join the Royal Family.

Obviously, the American's carriage was brought in first to give the groom time to settle down at the altar.

Thomas got out of his carriage shortly after, finding himself immediately standing in front of the master of ceremonies, ready to accompany him along the aisle. The Frenchman elegantly greeted the commons and followed the little man with the damask cloak inside the church. It wasn't bad for a modern cathedral, but it wasn't nearly as good as French cathedrals.

Obviously, all eyes were on him as he proceeded towards the altar, except those of Alexander who, as per tradition, did not have to turn to look at the groom until he came to his side. once they were close, Alexander could finally turn to Thomas, who looked at his uniform twisting his nose a little.

“Beautiful medals” he whispered sarcastically, winking at the gorgeous brooches pinned to the American's chest, “Who made them, King Midas?”

“Nice colour, will you wear it at my funeral too?” Alexander replied equally sarcastically, pointing out the bright magenta of the dress.

The exchange was interrupted when the bishop asked the two princes to take their places on the kneelers for the blessing. When the mass began, Alexander would have gladly continued to whisper with Thomas, but the younger seemed too focused on the function to listen to the American.

Well, that was pretty boring, at least for Alexander, but he exploited the time before their vows to take some mental notes about the strategy against England.

The older prince was awakened from his drowsiness half an hour later, when the bishop gestured to the princes to recite their oaths.

First, as the “responsible and owner” of the marriage, it was Alexander who declared that he would take care of Thomas, as his husband, their children and their family; that he would accompany him in joyful and difficult moments and that he would respect and honor him in the presence of God and their love.

Thomas’ oath was the same, identical to that recited shortly before by Alexander, with a small addition: “To respect, honor and obey you”. One more verb that, however, changed everything and that had been exhaustively discussed the day before, according to James and Gilbert. Obviously, Thomas didn't like it, but he was definitely not surprised; he might have been a possession in the eyes of others, but Alexander had promised him that he would treat him as an equal and that was enough for him.

Thomas noted the continuous symbolism even during the exchange of rings: his, with a kunzite set between thirteen smaller diamonds, was put on his finger by Alexander; the American's one, with a green topaz in the center of two diamonds, was placed on the prince’s ring finger by the bishop.

Not accustomed to the feeling, the Frenchman felt strange having the ring on his finger, but he was sure he would get used to it; the next thing to do was to sign the marriage papers.

When all the formalities were carried out, the bishop gave permission to Alexander to kiss his now husband. Obviously not a full-blown kiss, it would have been nothing short of unacceptable in a sacred place; instead it was a simple kiss on the cheek, not unlike those Thomas gave his sisters. But there was something different: the second more than necessary of the American's lips on the Frenchman's cheek and the feeling that they remained there even after the American wandered off, for example.

The rest of the mass passed quickly, much to Alexander's happiness, and only twenty minutes later the two newlyweds were walking out of the cathedral arm in arm. The crowd outside seemed even more agitated than it was before the celebration and an open carriage was made available to greet the people, which the two princes did for most of the journey back.

It was only when they could see the palace in the distance that they both let themselves sink into the seats of the carriage.  
"What's on the agenda now?" asked the younger, closing his eyes in search of a few seconds of tranquillity.

“Now a 'sober' traditional reception awaits us, therefore: a 'simple family lunch', at the end of which we will spend the whole afternoon introducing you to the most important members of the Court, in order to also give you the opportunity to choose someone for your private company; then we will dine on much more than we could eat alone in a week, and celebrate until the time comes to-”, Alexander hesitated looking for the appropriate words, “To retire for the night.”

Thomas opened his eyes, but his gaze was still distant as he watched the landscape slide further and further away.

“It seems like a full day. I would dare to say suffocating.”

It was indeed, the carriage ride could have been their only moment alone together before their first night and the idea didn't drive Alexander crazy either.

“Hey!” he suddenly shouted to the coachman, making Thomas jump in slight fright, “Swerve to the waterfall!”

The boy turned to look at the prince, confused and intimidated, to reply: “I'm afraid it is not foreseen, Your Highness... You must be at the palace as soon as possible”, his voice became increasingly lighter until it became inaudible as the prince pierced him with a look that did not admit replies, “I will say we had to divert due to the crowd. Excuse me, Your Highness”, and he looked back in front of him.

Thomas watched his husband relax back in the seat, smiling victoriously.

“Do you treat all servants like this?” he asked with an accusatory but amused look.

“Only those who don't do as I say” replied the American with a wink.

Thomas shook his head, causing some curls to fall on his forehead, changing the subject: “Why are we going to the waterfall? Do you want to drown me?”

“Don’t put any ideas in my head” he laughed, “I’m still mad at you for not defending me against the bee. And we’re going to the waterfall because, in my immense generosity and compassion, I’ve decided to give ourselves a little more time before being bored to death at the palace.”

Thomas nodded and Alexander watched him play with his ring, which caused him to stroke the stone of his own ring. They remained silent throughout the remaining path to the waterfall, Thomas continuing to stare on the opposite side of Alexander and Alexander was determined to keep his gaze fixed on Thomas, trying to impress every single detail of the husband in his mind.

When the carriage stopped, he told the boy to wait for them ahead and not to come near, he wanted them to be alone. As the day before on the roof, Alexander enjoyed the view of Thomas astonished in front of the waterfall pouring its water into the large fountain, between the statues of Diana and Actaeon.

“We can't get our clothes wet.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow: “Really, Thomas? Of all the things you could say, did you choose this one?”

The warmth invaded the cheeks of the younger, but he tried to maintain a bold attitude: “Well, you don't seem to shine with common sense or critical sense, Your ‘Let's Climb To The Palace’s Roof, What Could Happen?’ Highness.”

Alexander burst into a low and deep laugh: “Oh, luckily you’re here, from the top of your perfection and self-control, to enlighten my poor intellect!"

“And culture, I also judge you from the top of my culture” replied the Frenchman with a proud smile, “I don't think you realize where you live” he said, getting as close as possible to the edge of the fountain.

The American prince followed him cautiously, decreasing more and more the space between them: “I think I'm just used to it, but this doesn't mean that I don't realize the beauties I find in front of me.”

By now they were within an inch of each other, Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly, staring at Alexander's piercing eyes, which fluttered a little lower for a split second before returning to those of the Frenchman. He briefly noticed the unruly curls that had fallen out earlier and gently pushed them away from his husband's forehead.

"May I?"

"Do what?"

And then Alexander completely closed the distance between them resting his lips on those Thomas, the hand that had moved his hair was now on the nape of the younger, totally immersed among the thousand wavy curls. It lasted a few seconds, it was chaste and delicate, although Alexander wanted to deepen it and go beyond the soft and fleshy lips of the Frenchman.

He immediately separated from his husband when he felt him stiffen, but didn’t move away or took away his hand from behind the head; he merely stared at him, both waiting for something, anything, that would unlock the situation. Alexander began to fear that Thomas did not want him, but the fear died in the bud when the younger looked at his lips as he himself had previously done.

This time they moved together to reach each other’s lips, Thomas let Alexander’s tongue enter almost immediately, leaving him in control of the kiss. Feeling the Frenchman’s hands resting on his uniform, Alexander brought his free hand on the prince’s side, right on the thigh attachment, while with the other he pulled Thomas even closer, as far as possible.

The second kiss was almost the exact opposite of the first: it lasted much longer than the previous, it was needy and passionate, confused and messy; yet neither prince could have said which one was better.

They parted frantically, both needed air but their faces still very close. Thomas stared motionless at an indefinite spot on Alexander's shirt, who instead took his time to fiddle with his husband's hair.

“So” he began between one breath and the next, “I'm not doing badly, am I?”

Thomas slowly raised his gaze and looked at him with mock seriousness: “Really, Alexander? Of all the things you could say, did you choose this one?”

The older one smiled.

“What are you doing, using my own teasing against me?”, Alexander let the Frenchman back away a little, moving the hand he had placed on his side over the prince's, before going on: “Seriously, tell me who kissed you better than me.”

“I couldn't tell you, I've never been kissed before. At least not like that.”

Oh, so Alexander was the first ever for Thomas.

This gave rise to a feeling in the American's chest that he was unable to identify well. Was it pride? Complacency? Fear?

No, it was pleasure, pure excitement. He would be the first to know Thomas' intimacy and, at least for a while, the only one. Not only that, he now knew that Thomas wanted him too, perhaps not as much as Alexander wanted the young Frenchman, but at least he had been able to inflame his heart a little.

“Then I'm sure I just gave you the best first kiss in history!”

Thomas made a disapproving sound, but kept a smile on his lips: “I don't know, I could ask James and make a comparison."

“Oh, ah-ah, how funny you are. Don't even think about it”, obviously Alexander knew that neither Thomas nor James would do such a thing; as much as his brother could be defined as a 'free-spirited' man, he would never have approached his husband inappropriately.

“Shouldn't we go back?” Thomas asked changing the subject, “By now you have completed your plan as a carnal sinner.”

“Carnal sinner? Look, if I had wanted to 'sin' properly with you, I would have done it yesterday”, Alexander enjoyed the sight of his young husband blushing violently as he looked away and his mind flew to the night that awaited them. God, he was going to go crazy, and he was going to drive Thomas crazy too.

“But you’re right, your cousin has probably already put all the guards looking for us. That coachman had better find a credible excuse.”

“Will you just to leave that poor fellow alone?!"

\---

Surprisingly, the afternoon was not as bad as they had imagined. Both had done an excellent job of ignoring James' and Gilbert's questions and stares during lunch, turning instead to the company of Valérie and King George (and Charles, in Thomas' case).

Even the members of the Council and the Court didn't seem too bad after spending some time with them. If Peggy hadn't already earned a place in Thomas's family that morning, she surely would have done so in the afternoon: first she arrived late and, in an attempt to go unnoticed, she bumped a table; then, as she tried to compose herself, she put one foot badly and fallen on the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who fortunately remained firm enough to prevent them from falling to the ground.

Thomas found a couple of people he would like to talk to, but he suspected little Schuyler would be the one to introduce him to the best companies.

Not too slowly, but not too fast, the evening came and, consequently, the celebrations. It had to be a truly unique evening for all the residents of the palace, it was one of the few occasions in which they could access the first floor, in the royal ballroom and living-room, that were obviously furnished to show their maximum splendour, from the too shiny floor, to the (excessive) decorations on the tables.

Thomas found the arrangement of the tables for the Court quite casual, while the table of the Royal Family was almost maniacal, somehow reminded ‘The Last Supper’ by Leonardo da Vinci: all seated on the same side, facing the other nobles, with Thomas and Alexander in the center of the table and the rest of the family along the sides.

Of course, Valérie ran off to Peggy's table after not even the second course and was immediately joined by James who almost forcibly dragged Gilbert with him.

“Do you think they get along?” Alexander asked as he watched the French heir wriggle from the grasp of the American heir.

“I think that, however different in character, they’d be very good friends. But they won't be soon if your brother tries again to put food in his mouth” he commented at the sight of his cousin turning his head from side to side to avoid James’ fork, suddenly became a weapon.

They soon ended up imitating the voices of the four, inventing absurd conversations. After making James declare he would sell his kingdom in exchange for a chocolate-covered strawberry, Alexander said something unexpected, but not shocking: “James likes Schuyler's daughter, I'm as sure as I am of the colour of the sky.”

Thomas agreed, it was quite obvious how his brother-in-law looked at the girl: “Well, I hope he doesn’t do anything weird; I’d hate for Peggy to ask me to leave her place as a lady-in-waiting.”

“That's all? Don't you say anything about their age difference?” Alexander asked half shocked.

“No. In the end, she is seventeen, and I seem to remember that she will be eighteen soon; it's only seven years. Oh, don't make that face” he commented observing his husband's displeased face, “You also know it's not a real problem and that there are couples who swap for twenty years or more. Also, mentally, Peggy is much more likely to be the older one.”

“That's for sure, but I posed myself the problem of your age when I heard about our engagement” the older one pointed out.

Thomas turned with a smug smile: “Really, Alexander? Are you too old for me?”

“Shut up, you’re the one who is too young. Young and childish.”

This led to a series of amused attacks by both which were interrupted by the need to open the dances.

Traditionally, Thomas was supposed to dance with his father-in-law, but the King asked for the first dance with the groom, so Charles had to settle for the second.

Although the Frenchman would be more than happy to dance with his new father-in-law, he had to admit that he appreciated his time with King George; it wasn't as if they'd gotten to talk to each other much before and he turned out to be very thoughtful. He asked him if he felt comfortable, if he was enjoying the evening, how the palace seemed to him, he really wanted to make Thomas feel welcome in the new family.

Charles didn’t seem too happy with his brother’s request, but didn’t want to weigh his bad mood on his son-in-law, even if Thomas was insistent and seemed to understand immediately what was wrong, although he could never really know. Charles simply shrugged his shoulders and told him that George was the king, he might not always agree with him but he would always do as required.

Thomas would gladly have skipped the dance with James in favour of one with Gilbert, not that he had anything against him, but his dancing skills were a bit too lively and full of turns for his taste; but he had to admit that his brother-in-law was the one he had the most fun with.

Luckily after that third dance his obligations were over and people could now dance without the presence of the prince, who returned to his seat to enjoy the sight of Gilbert accepting his sister's pleas to practice dancing.

“Too bad not being able to observe your skills as a dancer tonight, what an unfair tradition” and meaningless he would have gladly added.

Alexander did not agree at all: “I, for once, am grateful to the traditions. It would have been humiliating, to say the least, and much more like a massacre than a dance.”

Thomas closed his eyes, imagining the scene and savouring every version of it: “Hmm, it would have been a wonderful sight!”

“You were a wonderful sight.”

‘Alexander, you sneaky fox, look how you made him blush!’ the American complimented himself; the phrase had come out so natural and spontaneous, but he was perfectly aware of the effect it would have on anyone.

They remained silent for a while, watching people dance without really caring about them, their hands just a few centimetres away from each other. Alexander imperceptibly ran his little finger across the tablecloth in the direction of his husband's hand. When they touched, Thomas pulled his hand away a little, thinking of an involuntary contact, but stopped when he felt Alexander's pinkie search for his again; with all the discretion he was capable of, he brought his hand back to his husband and let the older intertwines their little fingers together. It was pleasant, it warmed the Frenchman with a sweet warmth that spreads from the hand to the chest. Too bad that the pleasant warmth turned into a glowing fire when the American withdrew his hand only to rest it on his husband's thigh, sliding slowly inwards.

Should he make him take his hand away? Probably, but it was so strange to be touched like that, Thomas felt like he was drowning in his own warmth and wasn't sure he displeased it. After a few moments of hesitation, Alexander’s hand began to travel the entire length of Thomas’s thigh, causing him occasional jolts whenever he stroked a delicate spot or dared to climb too high.  
It went on like this for a while and, even if it seemed like hours to Thomas' eyes, they certainly spent about ten minutes at most. Alexander withdrew his hand as he saw his uncle and step-father making their way towards them, which could only mean it was time to leave for the night. Not that Alexander didn’t want to, but he feared it might be embarrassing enough for the both of them, if not downright humiliating.

But James and Gilbert had everything perfectly organized: only they took care of the newlyweds, and the bishop didn't take more than two minutes to bless Thomas' bed and new room.

The French heir stood in front of his cousin, helping him to remove the cravat: “Stay calm, you've been doing great all day, now you just have to relax and you will see that the rest will come by itself. It becomes incredibly more pleasing when you let yourself go.”

“And how do you know that?” Thomas asked, looking awry at the older one.

Gilbert's eyes widened realizing that he should have been more careful, a slight blush hovering over his face: “Forget how and what I know,” he mumbled embarrassed before looking over Thomas' shoulders to Alexander.

“Whichever way it goes, you come to me tomorrow as soon as you can, all right?” Thomas looked up at his cousin’s request, “I’m not kidding, Thomas. Promise me.”

“All right, I promise you” Thomas decided not to worry his cousin any further, he already knew that he thought he was partly responsible for his marriage to Alexander, would not make him feel more guilty if it were possible for him to avoid it.

James too, in his own way, decided to say a word or two to his brother, but not as thoughtful as Prince Gilbert's: “Remember: have fun, do whatever you want, but I want a nephew or a niece as soon as possible. I want a child to cuddle and spoil all day.”

“Ask Peggy then, unless you've already done so”, Alexander didn't have time to enjoy his joke because his brother 'accidentally' pulled his hair hard enough to make him wince.

“Goodnight, my sweet little brother. Gilbert, shall we go?” James asked innocently, hurrying to the door.

“I know what you are going to ask: 'Shouldn't you be the one to put our nightshirts on?', Could you stop complain all the time?”

Gilbert took the spoke before Alexander had a chance: “We both think you are sufficiently capable of changing yourselves alone, end of story. Thomas, I love you. Goodnight” and he hurried to push James out of the room to do the same. 

Well, they were alone now. Alone and with memories of their kiss and hand on Thomas' thigh.

They stood without looking at each other before Alexander took off his heavy coat quite loudly: “What a liberation! You have no idea how uncomfortable that thing is” and how uncomfortable those medals were, why couldn't he wear them around his neck?

Thomas chuckled, turning to look at his husband: “Yes, I think I got it... Wait, you'll end up tearing your shirt” he said coming to help his husband.

Carefully not to force the pin or prick the older, Thomas removed all the medals one after the other. He raised his head with a victorious smile, ready to self-praise his skill, but instead he stared at the American who was watching him intensely.

Without saying a word, Alexander took Thomas' hand and brought it back to his chest, moving it towards the laces. The Frenchman accepted the husband’s suggestion and untied them with the same care with which he had removed the medals shortly before.

Alexander moved behind Thomas, gently removed any curls trapped under the collar of his dress, rested his chin on the hollow of his husband's neck and began to unbutton his eccentric coloured waistcoat. Arriving at the last button, just below the abdomen, he buried his nose in the unruly hair and inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, causing both of them a violent shiver along the entire spine.

Alexander pushed even closer to the Frenchman, causing their bodies to adhere perfectly one to the other; he felt blood traveling through his stomach and pouring directly into the groin area, but he still had work to do. He took his time to undo Thomas' shirt, taking the opportunity to tease him with small kisses under his jaw, slowly moving towards his neck.

His husband's gasps and stifled moans were all it took for Alexander to turn him towards him and take possession of his mouth. Soon he decided to get rid of their shirts, impetuously for his, delicately for Thomas.

Paying as much attention as possible, he made the Frenchman back away up to the edge of the bed and the latter sat down immediately, desperately looking for support for his legs, which were abandoning him of their firmness.

Exchanging a look of approval and impatience, Alexander leaned his hand on Thomas’ chest to make him lie down on the bed while moving to remove his trousers and underwear along with these. Thomas felt very embarrassed by his nakedness and hurried to look at one of the walls to escape the situation, but Alexander immediately brought the index finger to the sharp edge of Thomas’ jaw and re-established their eye contact.

“Eyes on me, sweet-chocolate.”

The nickname took the Frenchman off guard, mostly due to his husband's audacity; no one had ever dared to call him in a similar way outside of his family, and even there it was something implicitly reserved only for the oldest and closest members to Thomas.

Alexander took advantage of Thomas' distraction to undress completely. His hands immediately ran to roam again on the Frenchman's body, paying particular attention to the dark nipples, since, as soon as he touched them, Thomas emitted a loud, irrepressible moan. Deciding to see how much the younger could endure, he stroked them in a slow, circular motion, offering a little pinch every now and then. Thomas' breaths were short and fast, trying to keep his respiratory flow under control. Alexander decided to further trouble the prince and bent down to kiss him as slowly as he could, his hands still on the prince’s nipples.

When he himself had to part because of the need for air, he nibbled the now swollen lower lip of the Frenchman and it was then that he had an idea. He pressed his lips to his husband's one last time and began to descend, leaving a trail of tickling kisses along the neck, collarbones and sternum, before launching again at the attack of Thomas' nipples. He imitated the same movements made just before in they younger’s mouth, licking every millimetre of skin with warm saliva. He could see his husband's hands stroking the sheets in search of some freshness and decided to take Thomas' hard buds between his teeth, lightly tightening his grip.

Thomas shouted, a shout of pleasant pain, in the throes of the wildest ecstasy; he squeezed the sheets in his hands to hold any other sound, but his moans were still there, perfectly audible and ready to give excitement to the American.

  
Alexander looked up to admire his work of art: Thomas was red in face beyond the imaginable, the hairline clearly showed the sweat he was taking possession of his skin and warm tears of overstimulation gushed from the tail of the eyes; he had stopped trying to control his breath, and now his chest was getting up and down at an erratic and confusing pace.

Alexander brought his right hand to the prince's cheek to wipe away his tears, but once there Thomas unexpectedly turned his head and planted a kiss on his husband's palm. Releasing his grip on the sheets, he put his hand on Alexander's and continued to lean his lips wherever it happened; the husband didn’t seem to dislike the treatment and was curious to see what the younger one would have done.

After kissing every single fingertip, Thomas looked straight into Alexander's eyes as if deciding what to do; then, having appealed to all his courage, he brought into his mouth the same forefinger that the American had used to turn his head earlier.

Alexander felt as if every inguinal vein had burst at that precise moment. The sight of Thomas so needy, his eyes glassy with pleasure, moving around his finger, skilfully twisting his smooth tongue, his head moving back and forth to get away and approach immediately after; he needed all the self-control in the world so as not to take him in that exact moment. After all, he didn't want Thomas to get hurt and, without the right preparation, he certainly would, but maybe he could take advantage of the situation.

He added the middle finger into the prince's mouth and soon let the ring finger join the dance performed by Thomas' tongue. After a few minutes in this way, Alexander decided to go back to pinching the Frenchman's left nipple with his free hand; Thomas immediately forgot about the prince's fingers and let himself go again to a loud moan.

Alexander felt the slight vibration and decided the time had come. Withdrawing his fingers, satisfactorily wet, from Thomas' mouth, he brought them close to his entrance, creating small relaxing circles around the ripple.

“Are you ready?” he asked, moving his hand from his husband’s nipple to his pelvis for a better grip. The prince nodded fervently and only then Alexander pushed the tip of his index finger over the edge, slowing to give Thomas time to get used to it.

Thomas, for his part, was doing his best not to flinch; it was weird to have something inside like that and he knew it would only grow thick, but then he remembered his cousin's words and forced himself to calm down. After all, it was about to become pleasant, there was a reason why almost everyone enjoyed sex, right? Thomas wished to find out as soon as possible, while his husband slipped a second finger into his opening, moving them inside in an attempt to widen it a little more. When Alexander also inserted his ring finger, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Wait”, but the American gave no sign of having heard him, so he tried again: “Alexander, wait, please.”

Alexander stopped as soon as he realized what the younger had mumbled, terror took hold of him: “Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop? I can get away if you want. I’ll get you some water or something else. Shall I call your cousin? God, it would be embarrassing, but if that's what you need-”

“No” Thomas interrupted, pulling himself up with the help of his arms to sit up. “Just-shhh”, he placed a finger on the American's lips, “Let me... let me try something, all right?”

Alexander nodded, anything would help Thomas, he was fine with it. He watched his husband kneel on the mattress and timidly approach him; he took a deep breath and, with a last hesitant look, sat down on Alexander's lap. After placing his hands on the American's shoulders in search of a solid grip, the Frenchman joined their lips together, taking full control this time. Now it was Thomas who had to relax Alexander and the method he used would remain in the American's thoughts for a long time.

He passed his hands up and down his husband’s shoulders, exerting a pleasant pressure until he felt the nerves and muscles melt under his touch; wandering along the chest he touched every single mole he encountered along the way. Going further and further down he discovered that Alexander was sensitive in various places of the belly and this helped him for what was his goal.

Swallowing the fear, he touched Alexander's semi-erect penis and, after a second, ran his hand lightly along the length, paying attention to the tip. It was almost stranger than having his husband's fingers inside him, but Alexander seemed much more than satisfied, so he worked a little harder; in fact, the discomfort disappeared when the American's member became harder in his hands, causing him in turn a rush of pleasure and adrenaline.

Thomas almost wanted to compliment himself, he hadn't looked down even once and was doing great, judging by the older's reactions, but the praise soon gave way to dissatisfaction. He felt that something was missing, he wanted to feel his husband's dominance again, it was as if he was physically attracted to Alexander's body, so he did the only thing that came to mind at that moment: satisfy himself.

Without ever ceasing to caress the American's erection, he pushed towards him, making their hips collide, before retiring and starting again with this rocking movement; he used his free hand to bring the prince's left hand back to his nipple and the left to his side, but he soon slipped onto his buttocks, massaging and squeezing them. Shortly thereafter Thomas felt the pre-ejaculatory fluid on Alexander's tip and spread it a little along his husband's penis, then his need for friction became too strong and he could not help but get close to his husband's ear to whisper: "Alexandre" with his French accent, as if it was a supplication.

This triggered something in Alexander, something wild and primitive. He leaned forward abruptly, forcing the younger to lie down on the bed again; he forcefully separated his husband's legs and stepped between them. If Thomas was moaning, Alexander was growling. The Frenchman's hand reached his and brought it prince's member as an invitation to make him his and the latter had no intention of having it repeated twice.

He grabbed his husband's wrist and pinned it next to his head on the mattress, using his other hand to position himself well before starting to push into Thomas. At this point the young prince began to understand what 'sweet pain' meant, Alexander's size and length almost made him want to scream, but it became so pleasant soon after and some of his need for friction vanished, but soon he wanted more. He knew that the American had not fully entered him and he was sure that it was exactly what he needed.

The more Alexander moved inside Thomas, the more he let a little more of his length slip into Frenchman, beginning to feel his point of pleasure; each blow near his prostate led Thomas to see the stars. Alexander grabbed the prince’s hips and pulled him towards him, making him lift his back off the mattress. He buried a hand in his thick dark hair and held it tightly in his fist, causing the younger one to tilt his head and close his eyes with a small hiss.

Thomas heard his husband's heavy breathing too close to his ear, before listening to the request, more like an order, from the American: “Say it again”, the low and authoritative tone shook the younger with pleasure, but he couldn't understand what the prince meant. What was he supposed to say again?

The answer was not long in coming: “Say my name. I want to hear you say it.”

That’s it? It was a request that Thomas could meet without complaint.

He almost did not have time to say the full name, as Alexander pushed him back on the mattress, strong enough to hit his head on the head of the bed, but the American’s hand was already there to massage the sore area. This time it was Thomas who came close the American’s ear to whisper, again, sensually: “Alexandre...”

By now Alexander’s entire erection was buried inside Thomas, rubbing the Frenchman’s point of arousal until he sobbed between groans.

Increasing the speed of the thrusts, Alexander felt closer and closer and kissed the Frenchman’s chest again. He didn’t need to ask him again to say his name: judging by how he was trembling and wheezing, Thomas was also ready to come and continued to invoke his husband’s name in the hope of warning him.

Listening to his husband's last whimpering call, Alexander stopped as deep as he could, feeling his sperm pour inside the younger; it didn't take much more than a thrust or two and a firm touch on Thomas' hard nipples to allow him to come, accompanied by a half-muffled moan.

For a couple of seconds there was nothing but silence and their laboured, exhausted breathing; finally, Alexander succumbed and dropped beside his husband. Grabbing the sheet left under them, he lazily passed it over Thomas' stomach to remove any trace of semen, before turning the Frenchman on his side and bringing him close to him.

God, he looked even more beautiful than before: the eyes half-closed and protected by long lashes, the lips red from being abused so much, the curls that fell on the forehead and those lying on the pillow seemed to ask to be caressed and, looking down, he could see his nipples still hard and sensitive after their long torment.

Planting the umpteenth kiss on his sweet lips, he tightened around the Frenchman’s body, making Thomas' head rest on his arm as he carried the other one on his back, massaging it gently in the center.

“Are you all right?”, it wasn’t much of a conversation starter, but it was what Alexander needed to be quiet and show Thomas that he cared.

The younger just nodded with a slight smile, tired and unable to form a meaningful sentence at the moment; so Alexander continued: “That thing you did before, when you touched me intimately... Where did it come from?”

Thomas crouched better in his position before replying to his husband: “I don't know, I never imagined doing such a thing, I just did it”, then he remembered something important, “Thank you... for stopping.”

Alexander felt sick at the memory of touching Thomas against his will, why was he thanking him?

“I haven't done enough, I had to stop early. I'm so sorry, Thomas. I-”

The Frenchman put his index finger on his husband's lips just as he had done when he stopped earlier: "You hadn't heard, probably no one would have understood what I was saying", then leaned over to kiss his forehead, "You were kind and, if I can, very good… Alexandre”, the name whispered voluntarily as he watched the older man blush.

"In my defence, it’s a very beautiful and sensual name, and hearing you say it made me more involved in our intimacy” he said, mimicking the behavior of a tutor explaining to a child, "But I’m not the only one who’s sensitive to certain things, am I?"

Thomas grabbed Alexander's finger before he could get close to touching his nipples again, instead he took the opportunity to bring it close to his face, as a clear reference to when he put it in his mouth: “No, but you seem to have a lot more sensitivity than me. It's easy to play with others' weaknesses.”

“Yes, it is”, Alexander chuckled at the sight of Thomas hiding his face to yawn: “Are you sleepy?”, He already knew the answer, but it didn't matter.

Thomas nodded again and approached his husband's body, now perceiving it as a safe and familiar place, which made him smile. And to think that just two days ago he had a panic attack at the very idea of being alone with him. He fell asleep without any other doubt: life here, in the palace, with Alexander, would have been wonderful.

Alexander watched his husband fall asleep in his arms and, being careful not to wake him up, stroked his cheek before returning to play with his black hair.

Looking briefly at the room, he decided that it was absolutely not worth it to get up and ruin everything just to blow up the candles, they would extinguish on their own. He forced himself to sleep (which he hadn’t done decently in a couple of days), marriage or not, he would still have to attend Council meetings tomorrow and discuss the upcoming war; but he would have had time to be with Thomas, if only to see together the wedding gifts sent by the other royals, from Europe and beyond.

And the thought of waking up next to Thomas the next day was the one with which he finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kunzite was discovered in the 20th century, but we're going to pretend it's not like that. It is said to have the power to help people who drown in their own feelings and bring them mental serenity.  
> The small diamonds represent the current American colonies and stone is the role and the responsibilities that Thomas is accepting. 
> 
> The green topaz is a symbol of balance, fortitude and immortality.  
> The two diamonds represent the duties towards the kingdom and Alexander's family.
> 
> ***
> 
> I feel so bad leaving clues all around, but we'll delve deeper into something in the next chapter and there's going to be a name we haven't heard in a while!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the she/her errors on Chapter 6, I hate myself and all the technological devieces.

Alexander woke when a beam of light landed on his face, penetrating from under his lashes to annoy his eyes. Determined not to get up yet, he turned to the other side of the bed and realized that there was already a problem: he had not fallen asleep facing the windows; problem number two: he had fallen asleep with Thomas' head on his arm and reaching out his hand touched nothing but the fresh sheets. This was mainly what convinced him to open his eyes (and also rather quickly) and look for his husband, who however seemed to sleep in the exact same place where he had left the night before, except that now he was wearing his nightgown; how was that possib-oh.

Alexander looked around only to confirm his doubts: yes, he had moved so far from the center of the bed that if he had leaned a few more inches he would have fallen like a child. Thomas, on the other hand, looked like a statue, perfectly still, as if he were the protagonist of some Renaissance’s painting; In fact, he was so motionless as to appear lifeless, thought that prompted Alexander to approach his husband brusquely to make sure he was still breathing. The American's impetuous movements caused Thomas to wearily open his eyes to find his husband's face in front of him, and looked at him as if he were exhausted, which in fact he was.

Pulling back slightly with a sigh of relief, Alexander ran both hands over his face muttering: "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Only for the fifth time since tonight" Thomas replied turning on his back to look at the ceiling, still sleepy, "You fidgeted as if you were punching someone and kept talking in your sleep."

Alexander suddenly sat down, curious beyond all limits: "I was talking? What did I say?"

"Something about a cat following you somewhere, that it's not your fault that Minister Adams looks like a barrel and then, not more than two hours ago, you muttered that you were hungry", Thomas closed his eyes at the memory of the night, "And all the while you have... how do you say it?", a growl of frustration left his throat as he searched for the verb in question, "Ugh, tu as ronflé toute le nuit."

Alexander listened with amusement his husband surrendered to his native language and his complaints about the night with him: "First of all it is true that it is not my fault if Adams is that way; after that, I am actually hungry. Last, but not least, I don't snore."

Thomas opened his eyes and immediately turned to look at the older one: "Tell that to my face! Every single time that you seemed to be stopping, every time the volume became slightly tolerable, you would start again louder than before! It took me an hour to go back to sleep the first time and the temptation to go to sleep on one of the sofas in the next room was really very strong the third time."

Alexander sneered, he knew perfectly well he snored when he slept soundly, but he would have continued undaunted to argue otherwise with anyone.

"Anyway, you are very lucky: the fourth time you woke me up I went to ask if we could have breakfast arranged in the living room, it should be already there. Maybe you'd like to put some clothes on before leaving this room" he commented, noting the American getting out of bed, clearly determined to get to the just mentioned meal.

Grinning mischievously, Alexander glanced over his shoulder at the Frenchman, placing a hand on his own hip, as if posing for a portrait: "There is nothing you haven't seen or experienced last night, my demure husband" he replied with a wink before opening the door and disappearing for a minute or two.

When he reappeared, he was doing his best not to topple anything from the large tray, every single thing seemed determined to roll on the surface and fall to the ground, but one way or another Alexander managed to put everything on the big bed.

"Be a lamb, darling, won't you go get the tray with the teapots and cups?"

"After the hellish night you put me through, it won't be a kindly spoken sentence or some sweet eyes that will get you a favour from me. However", he blatantly ignored his husband's gaze as he pulled the tray towards himself, "I could if you took me to visit the library, say, this afternoon?"

"We haven’t been married for a whole day and you’ve already moved on to blackmail" Alexander joked, hoping that there wouldn’t be matters too important to deprive him of the afternoon with the Frenchman.

"It’s not blackmailing, I would call it more a barter, a give and a take; our own marriage is, after all!", he sat up elegantly to pick up the three teapots in the other room, leaving the American alone to decide what to eat first.

Alexander heard him say something and watched him chuckle with the tray in his hand, carried with much more sophistication than he did: "I should have let you go, perhaps if you were in front of the maid you would have understood the importance of the clothes."

"I'm sure she would have appreciated the view too" he replied taking the tray from the hands of the younger to allow him to sit back on the bed, "Tea or coffee?" he asked pouring the darker drink into his own cup.

"Neither", Thomas reached out for the smallest teapot, "It's hot, it's morning and I'm still tired, so I'll enjoy a healthy and refreshing cup of cold milk."

Alexander laughed thinking he was joking, but seeing the Frenchman had actually poured milk into his cup he commented: "Are you seriously going to have breakfast with milk and cookies? I can understand avoid coffee, but at least a cup of tea!", he sighed with mock resignation, "You really are still a child after all."

Thomas drank calmly from his cup, he had grown up with sneaky goblins in his family, Alexander's teasing would not scratch him in the slightest. After laying the cup, he stole the savoyard that the American had just taken from the tray and brought it close to his lips: "Perhaps it's you who, in your immense old age, need the help of coffee to stay awake and tea to fall asleep", and shoved half the cookie in his mouth.

"Thief and scoundrel, that's what you are Alexander retorted as he reached out to snatch the other half from his husband's hands.

They continued teasing each other for a while before being interrupted by a maid knocking on the door: "Prince Thomas, your bath is ready, Your Highness. Would you like me to call someone to help you?"

Thomas ignored the confused look of the older one, starting to get out of bed: "No, thank you, you’ve been very quick. I’ll be right away."

"Did you ask to prepare only one bath?" asked Alexander with a frown, "What about the one for me?"

"You’re old enough to stand up and ask for it yourself. Also, I seem to remember that you have to attend some meeting this morning, am I wrong?" the Frenchman asked rhetorically.

"Precisely for this reason I should be the first to bathe! I don't want to go in yesterday's sweat" the older one complained only to hear his husband answer that he could have thought about that before.

"This is voluntary disinterest in your spouse, I could ask for a divorce."

"Try it" Thomas replied knowing that even if the husband were serious, he would have neither the courage nor the intention.

Alexander continued as if the other had not said anything, crossing the bed to sit on the Frenchman' side, right in front of him: "Now there’s only one way you can fix it."

He waited for the younger to raise an eyebrow as a clear request to speak, so Alexander took his hand and, smiling maliciously, innocently declared: "Inviting me to bathe with you."

Thomas averted his gaze by blushing visibly and Alexander could feel his hand become partially stiff. Of the thousand excuses and objections that came to his mind he said the only one that didn’t sound like refusal at all: "I thought you didn’t like water."

"I don't like too much water, but I'm an adult, it won't be a bathtub to scares me; and then", he got out of bed to be at the same height as his husband, "it would make me very, very happy”, he tried again to show his sweet eyes, "I swear I'll behave myself."

\---

Thomas knew perfectly well that was a lie, yet there he was, with his back resting on Alexander's chest, his legs intertwined with his husband's, criticizing the American language.

"You use 'glass' for more than four different terms, the differences with English are minimal but you all act as if they are two completely different languages and none of you, in your linguistic superiority, managed to pronounce my name correctly!"

Alexander quickly abandoned the defence of his own language to concentrate on the latest accusation: "What do you mean? Thomas is a name we also have here in America, you can't pronounce it wrong!"

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned just enough to see his husband: "Pity that I'm French and that, consequently, the accent goes on the 'a' and not the 'o', and that the 's' is silent; therefore, it is pronounced T-O-M-À", then he looked back in front of him, "But I don't mind how you say it here, maybe I prefer it."

"T-O-M-À", Alexander tried to repeat the name with French intonation before shaking his head, "Yes, I prefer the American version too."

  
  
The Frenchman use the statement as a pretext to continue the bickering before: "This is because you are the typical stubborn American, convinced that your way of doing is the best in the world and revolutionary in every respect."

"If you don't approve you can always flee to England and ask for King George's protection, I'm sure that powerful and nice man would love your presence in his palace and even more so in his bed."

Any other laugh or joke died in his throat seeing that Thomas did not react, rather he bowed his head slightly and Alexander could see his gaze fixed on the water, but it was as if he was not really looking at it, it was as if he was no longer there with him. After not even a second, the Frenchman's eyes darkened even more and his breathing quickened like the evening he had the panic attack; the water quivered at the agitated movement of his chest and Alexander was certain that by then the younger had started to tremble.

"Thomas? Come on, it's nothing."

Alexander tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but as soon as he touched him the Frenchman pushed himself to the opposite side of the tub so abruptly that he poured water on the ground; he looked so scared and suddenly embarrassed by their nakedness. The American couldn't understand, how could he go from utter calm to raw terror in such a short time?

Thomas' pupils dilated at Alexander’s sight, regained control of his breath with some difficulty and tightened his eyes to escape the situation, but felt that it wasn’t enough, so he turned his head and began to bite his lips.

'Everything is fine. You are not in England, you are in America, safe, with your cousins and your husband. You've had a great night together and he's not going to hurt you. Breathe.’

"Thomas", no answer, "I'm getting closer, all right?", still no answer but at least the younger nodded, although he narrowed his eyes even more.

Alexander moved very slowly towards his husband and still preferred to keep the contact to a minimum, at least for the moment, so he gently took Thomas's cheek and stroked it a few times with his thumb when he felt him wince.

Slowly, he passed his arm under the prince's legs and made him sit on his lap, moving his hand from the cheek to the back of his head to bring it on his chest; he could still feel him shaking in his arms.

"It's nothing, it's all right", he couldn't say for sure if his husband was crying or not, but he had to understand what was going on, "What are you thinking?"

Again, there was no response, Alexander felt Thomas open his mouth several times and then close it again, the words seemed unable to form other than in his mind.

They remained silent for too long, with only the company of Thomas' breathlessness, before a phrase as faint in sound as strong in meaning was heard: "He wouldn't have stopped."

“What?”

Alexander barely had time to whisper the question before the whole situation exploded.

Thomas put his hands on his still closed eyes and felt his nails dig into his forehead, the rest of his body was still as a stone but the water around him seemed to be in the grip of an earthquake, Alexander himself felt shaken by the fury of the younger.

"He wouldn't have stopped! He would have enjoyed seeing me suffering, helpless, hurt! He wouldn't even have waited for the wedding, he would have taken me immediately against my will! He-"

"Enough", Alexander firmly grabbed both of the Frenchman's wrists, pulling them away from his face; Thomas hadn't even realized he had started scratching it.

"Enough" he repeated more softly, looking at his husband. It was almost unfair how beautiful he was even at that moment, his cheeks streaked with dry tears of anger, his dark eyes wide open and his lips slightly parted.

Thomas let Alexander make him lean back against his chest, once again a safe haven from his storm of thoughts: "You've risked a lot, it's true, and it's also true that your relationship would have been very different from the one we're building; but it's not something you need to worry about anymore. Now you're here, married and respected, and he’s somewhere in his palace, alone, preparing to lose the war."

"And if he wins? If he wins, what would happen? What would he ask of France and America?"

Alexander had to admit he had thought very little of it, he was sure they would win, but maybe Thomas was right, maybe he was underestimating England.

"Well" he began, "Surely he will demand the French territories in Canada, like Quebec and perhaps the Channel's ports, he will tax heavily America and some will lose their heads; but it will not happen, I am more than certain", Thomas didn't seem convinced at all, "Thomas, he made the proposal only for a military alliance. If you had married him, I wouldn't think of you, the same way he doesn't think of you right now; you're probably the last of his thoughts."

"You can't know that, you don't know him."

Of course not, he didn't know what it was like to have his eyes on him, to feel his gaze burning on his back, to be afraid of suddenly finding him in front of him.

Another tense silence.

"Do you?" Alexander asked hesitantly, a nod of agreement followed.

"Do you want to talk about it?", a nod of dissent.

"Can I comb your hair?"

"You wouldn't be able to, you would make a bunch of knots", he was calming down; good, they just had to keep joking and it would all be over.

"Try me!" Alexander insisted as he tried to reach for the comb on the stool beside the tub, "Look how perfect my hair is!"

"Yes, it's precisely because I saw them that I'm not going to let you touch mine."

They spent the rest of the bathroom like that, trying to defend themselves from each other's attacks, until they agreed to get out of the tub.

Once back in the bedroom, Alexander watched Thomas collapse on the mattress, admiring how the cloth that covered him adhered perfectly to his body. The bath hadn't gone as he had hoped, but it didn't matter, he would have time in the future for intimacy with his husband and Thomas was giving him more and more opportunities to enter his world.

Quickly getting dressed he walked over to Thomas's side of the bed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't open all the gifts without me", he took advantage of the moment when the younger opened his mouth to answer to plant a kiss on his lips, partially sliding his tongue into his mouth, before running for the door.

Thomas ran his hand over his lips with an expression of annoyance: "You still taste like coffee, disgusting."

"And you have the taste of beauty and tenderness!"

\---

Alexander hadn't exactly got an idea of how that Council meeting would go, he didn't imagine them sparkling with joy, but at least a bit relieved and serene; after all yesterday there was a royal wedding, today they just had to decide how to proceed strategically.

But as he entered the council chamber, he immediately realized that something was wrong: Gilbert seemed out of his mind, his uncle was visibly upset, the ministers were still whispering to each other, and James and Charles were reading a letter with a bewildered air.

Wow, if even James and Charles were going through this together without arguing, it must have been something terribly important.

"Is there bad news?" he asked waiting for someone to deign to give him the latest updates.

"Where is my cousin?" the Frenchman asked glacially. This guy terrified Alexander, he seemed ready to tear up anyone who got too close to his family and he would normally have appreciated it too, but Alexander was also part of his family now.

He had no intention of making things worse anyway, so he just replied: "In his apartments, but I think he intends to join Valérie and Peggy soon", he took another look at the room, but no one seemed willing to tell him anything, "May I kindly know the reason for all this dismay?"

James glanced at his brother before starting a non-verbal conversation with his father. When they both nodded, James passed the letter to Alexander the expression of absolute seriousness: "Don't get mad."

The young prince turned the letter in search of the seal of whoever had sent it only to find himself in front of the English Royal Coat of Arms. Well, you talk about the devil and the horns come out.

Without hesitating any longer, Alexander grabbed one of the goblets on the table and began reading the letter.

_To the Royals of the land called America, George and James,_

_it is with the Grace that only a Sovereign can possess that I send you My heartfelt congratulations on the occasion of the engagement of your second heir to the throne, Alexander, to Prince Thomas of France. It is far from any doubt that this union will bring as much joy to your family as much glory and opportunity to your people._

_I am, however, forced to denounce the wrong that with this, undoubtedly happy, union you have committed towards My Person, My subjects, the English colonies and their inhabitants. Therefore, in the face of our unpleasant quarrels and our incurable questions, no longer only economic and political but which have resulted on the personal front, I am obliged to recognize you as peace terrorists and threat to all other Kingdoms. Since your government has repeatedly ignored the legitimate demands of the United Kingdom, with the sole intention of provoking military forces and increasing its own unreasonable desire for independence from European companies, you have, in fact, carried out acts which can be regarded as military aggression._

_The British Government and all its relatives have consequently decided to terminate any diplomatic relationship with the American kingdom and declares that, given the current circumstances, the United Kingdom considers itself to be in a state of war against America._

_Please accept the assurances of my highest consideration._

_I wish to dedicate the rest of this unpleasant letter to young Alexander._

_By the time you read this, if my calculations are not wrong, you will already be married to someone who should neither be seen nor named by an unworthy soul, but who fate wanted, perhaps as an unwelcome joke, to be removed from places more suited to his presence to reach your house._

_You have at your side one of the most successful divine creations, and yet you have not had the opportunity to see him a few years ago, when the innocence of body and mind began to yield to maturity. Even then he seemed to have descended directly from the sphere of heaven closest to the light of God, showing the maximum perfection that nature can achieve in a human body._

_The memory of the flame in his eyes, which set my heart on fire with the wildest feelings at first glance, haunts me in every moment of my life and torments me even more the thought that you're the one who is enjoying the warmth of that flame. You, a miserable second heir who will never sit on the throne, a bastard born of lust, you have been allowed to enjoy something that does not belong to you._

_Once it was customary to give pearls to the most important and powerful men, these days you see pearls being given to pigs. Then enjoy, Alexander; enjoy his presence, his sight, his beauty._

_Look at the hair, look at the skin, look at his hands, look at his face, look at the shapes and the proportion: admire how he seems born of temptation. Look at his eyes, look at his neck, look at the flesh, look at the smile._ _Imprint them well in your memory, because I want them to be the last things you will think of when you'll find yourself agonizing with a blade in the center of your heart. But breathe your last breath with a quite mind: when you’ll be dead, I will be happy to take care of your unfortunate husband; I would ask you not to contaminate him too much until then._

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_George R_

Alexander didn’t tear the letter by pure miracle.

He had begun to grind his teeth already in the middle of the content, but the end, the end made him want to have to punch something, preferably the face of the Englishman.

Everything in that letter was an affront, even wanting to overlook the part addressed to Alexander: he did not recognize the legitimacy of the American monarchy, he did not recognize the royal titles, he implied that it was they who initiated the military attacks, not to mention the 'legitimate demands of the United Kingdom'.

"All of this is-", Alexander searched for the best words to express himself, marvelling at not being able to find them, "This letter-I'm disgusted, I couldn't put it any other way. With what courage... Did you read how he voluntarily omitted our titles and the alliance with France, yes?"

"Alexander" someone called him, but Alexander barely heard it.

"Well, it doesn’t matter, we're officially at war now. How long before we go into action? If we play our cards right, he’ll be forced to surrender within a year."

"Alexander", he heard it now, but he just didn't care.

"We could attack the British colonies and the ports on the Channel at the same time, he won't be able to defend both."

"Alexander", but who the hell was he? What did he want? Didn't he see that this was not the time?

Turning around with fiery eyes he yelled: "What?!" and then he realized how everyone was looking at him worried.

'What an exaggeration, I haven't even cursed against that English maniac prick.’

But like his previous words, his thoughts were also interrupted as Charles approached and pulled the prince’s left hand toward him, carefully dabbing it with his pocket handkerchief.

Alexander had to observe the white fabric dyed red to remember that until recently he was holding a chalice, now shattered on the floor.

"You tightened it too much", Charles answered the stepson's silent question without looking at him, continuing to press gently on his hand looking for any glass shards, "I understand that you are angry, but try to be more careful."

Alexander hated it when he did that, when he was so thoughtful and attentive to him and James that he confused his head. It was the same man who treated both his wives like toys, how could he be fooled by these occasional moments of kindness? And somehow Alexander kept letting himself be fooled, even if only for a few moments.

He muttered a "Thank you" and passed the letter to his stepfather to take the handkerchief and continue dabbing the various scratches himself; they weren't serious injuries anyway, they were already stopping bleeding.

"We will not attack first" George declared in a tone that did not accept replies, "We will prove that we are not the warmongers, he will have to take responsibility for this war."

Charles narrowed his gaze to his brother: "This would mean sacrificing lives to defend our honor, would it really be worth it? Would you rather pretend you don't know he's going to attack instead of preparing us to defend civilians?"

"Of course not, that wasn't what I meant, but what do you suggest we do? If we attack first, we will go to the wrong side" and after George said that, Charles responded with something that angered half the ministers and made agree the other half, and in less than a minute the whole room was torn apart by voices upon voices that opposed each other.

Alexander did not care who attacked first, he just wanted to destroy the entire military power of the man who had never shown anything but contempt and disgust for his family and his people; and the whole Thomas thing, Holy Mother, how the hell was he supposed to take it? This morning he had sworn to the Frenchman that King George didn't even think of him by mistake, and now what should he tell him?

'You know you were right? He seems to be just a little obsessed with you, but nothing serious, he's just waiting for my untimely death to get his hands on you' ? No way.

He let his feet move by themselves until he found himself in front of the Dauphin of France. No need for words, a quick glance and both left the room.

When they felt they had moved far enough away from the doors and prying ears, Alexander stepped forward to speak but was immediately preceded by the Frenchman: "What are you going to say to him?", he still had the same icy tone as when he asked about his cousin, but Alexander didn't he felt more bothered by it, not now that he knew why he was so angry.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I’m afraid that anything I'll try to do will only make the situation worse", the American pinched the bridge of his nose starting to feel his forehead hammering, "Just the thought caused him an attack this morning, I don't know-"

"He had another attack? Why? Was it you fault? What have you done?" the accusatory tone made Alexander take a few steps back.

"I didn't do anything, at least not on purpose. We were joking and I mentioned George, but I stopped immediately; I tried to reassure him in every way and in the end, he calmed down", he let Gilbert look him up and down with an indecipherable expression. At the end he lowered his head slightly to indicate that he believed the older, much to the latter's relief.

"What do you think I should-What if you told him? You've always known him, you know how to behave so as not to worry him!"

Gilbert shook his head with resignation: "I'm afraid I can't do it, it would give him the wrong idea", Alexander raised an eyebrow, causing the younger one to sigh, "If I went instead of you, he might take it as a lack of interest on your part or, worse, he might believe that your kindness this morning was due only to your intimacy in bed. And that’s not at all true, is it?"

"Of course it isn't! Why should-" , enough, they had to face it now or never.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed his gaze on the Frenchman's: "Look, I understand your feelings, I understand that you don't trust me, I really do, but we're not going anywhere like this. If we want to make this work, I will have to be next to Thomas; it's not easy for me either, do you think marrying someone I don't know was what I wanted? Surprise, it wasn't, but I was lucky enough that someone was your cousin, and I honestly really like him, Gilbert; I'm not saying I love him right now, but maybe one day I might. We are willing to give ourselves a chance, he seems willing to give me a chance, so why shouldn't you?"

Alexander was very pleased with himself, he did not think that everything would come out so clearly and simply. He no longer even cared about the younger’s reaction, he knew he was right and if he didn’t want to listen, it wouldn’t be Alexander the one who to suffered.

Fortunately, Gilbert was struck by the American's outburst. He wanted to tell him all his doubts, his fears, he wanted to be sure that Thomas would be fine, that he would not suffer, but he had to accept reality: Alexander too had found himself involved in something greater than himself and could not give him one fault.

"Did you like it? Last night, did you like it?"

Alexander could not understand the connection between that question (rather indiscreet) and what he himself had said shortly before.

"Yes, I liked it" he replied without fear of the Dolphin's reaction, "And Thomas liked it too" he added proudly.

Gilbert remained silent, trying to put order to the thousand thoughts that gripped him. Well, if they had to build some kind of family, they might as well start right away: "I think you should do as you think fit, with the letter. I will try to support your choice in both cases; don't make me regret it."

"I won’t."

"Good."

Both visibly relaxed, abandoning their defensive positions, to finally resume moving in an almost serene atmosphere. Gilbert glanced down the hallway to the room they had abandoned: "It wouldn't be convenient for anyone if you went back in there, they were all worried about your reaction while we waited for you, you know?" Alexander chuckled, "No, you should go to Thomas. Then let me know what you have decided to do, so I will know how to behave accordingly; and don't think it's over here between the two of us, Thomas has yet to tell me about your night and your brother is waiting for you for the same thing", without adding anything else he walked briskly back to the Council room.

Alexander stood in the middle of the hall for a few more moments, deciding what to say to his husband. When he walked back to the first floor he was determined in his decision: he would tell Thomas about the letter.

\---

He found the Frenchman in the living room of the previous evening, sitting on the floor with Valérie and Peggy laughing and commenting on the presents around them.

"I thought I told you not to open all the gifts without me" he said glancing at the objects scattered around.

"And I didn't, we just analyzed a couple of them! There's no need, Peggy" he commented, holding down the girl who had begun to rise to bow to the prince.

"I should have made that decision, but, yes, there's no need, Peggy" he smiled before distracting himself with one of the nearby presents, "What’s that?"

"That" the Frenchman began fascinated, "is a telescope created by the most illustrious astronomers of the Holy Roman Empire, sent to us by Leopold I of Habsburg. I think it is a way to bury old misunderstandings with France as well as for the wedding."

"Not bad" he said touching the long metal splint, but now they had to deal with a more serious matter. Turning to the two girls he asked if they could kindly leave them alone for a while and they ran out of the salon without objecting.

"Is there any problem?" the younger one asked standing up, "I thought the meeting would last longer."

"Yes, indeed the others are still discussing, it may take a while before Gilbert gets free", he remained silent even after hearing Thomas' little "Oh" of understanding.

'You can do it, Alex, with the same determination as before', but the words didn't seem to want to get out of his mouth. He wondered if it was the same feeling his husband felt during his panic attacks, but decided no, those must have been much more difficult.

Since Alexander said nothing, Thomas tried to find some explanation: "Then why are you here? Don't tell me you told Minister Adams the barrel thing and got kicked out."

"It would have been a lot of fun, but no" laughed Alexander, taking his husband's hands in his own.

'Be honest, tell him how it went in detail' the voice in his head kept repeating.

He resumed speaking encouraged by the Frenchman who asked to continue with his gaze: "So, this letter has arrived... from England", he observed Thomas' face losing all trace of amusement and smile, which didn’t help him to continue at all; his hands also seemed to have suddenly turned cold.

"Well, in short, King George has officially declared war on America, but he didn't mention France, a small satisfaction."

"And?"

"And…"

'And he didn't forget you. He didn't forget you at all. '

"And he made his congratulations on the engagement and the wedding."

Thomas looked him intently in the eyes and for the first time it was Alexander who wanted to look away: "Did he write anything else?"

"Nothing else."

Why was he lying? He had promised himself to tell him the truth, he had a right to know it; his mind seemed totally disconnected from his mouth. As if to worsen the situation, he added: "See? I told you he doesn't think about you, I dare say he doesn't care", at least the last part wasn't completely a lie, he didn't really care of what Thomas wanted.

Either Alexander was extremely good at acting, or Thomas was extremely desperate to believe what he was saying. Clenching his grip on the American's hands, the younger closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, bringing back that beautiful smile of happiness that Alexander feared losing for the second time that morning.

"Well", and then he laughed, a breathless laugh to release the tension, "Do you... do you want me to show you the presents already open or we proceed with the ones yet to be seen?"

"What a question, both!"

The more Thomas told him about the books, the accessories and the various objects they had received, the more Alexander became convinced that he had done the right thing by omitting the rest of the letter. Why should he have worried him? After all, King George would never have had a chance to actually get close to him; even if Alexander had died, Gilbert would have immediately returned him to France to safety.

But if he had done the right thing, why did he kept having the feeling that it would turned against him at any moment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah, look at me not passing tomorrow's Italian literature exam!  
> Anyway, lean chapter after the wedding and the first night, but we'll deal with it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so: there's gonna be oral sex towards the end, so if you don't want to read skip from "The Amercian felt his husband stiffen for a moment" to "Closing his eyes and settling more comfortably between his husband's legs".

Thomas lazily flipped through the first few pages of a book before putting it back in its place on one of the dark wooden shelves; the two had separated when Alexander felt calm enough to return to the Council room without breaking anything else, and they spent lunch apart. Gilbert kept his promise and said nothing about the American's choice to remain silent about the letter.

"Gilbert told me that you talked, or rather, that you talked to him. Pretty impactful, I have to admit; you made my lunch a lot of fun", he chuckled at the memory.

"Glad yours was enjoyable at least. I had to listen to such stupid suggestions that I wanted to stick my fork in my eye and James wouldn't leave me alone for a second, he wanted to know everything about last night", this was also a half-truth, first the two of them had had to deal with the letter thing and it had turned out to be one of those times when James' earnestness and empathy convinced Alexander that his brother would make a great ruler one day.

Thomas scanned a shelf for some interesting books, murmuring absentmindedly: "Yes, so did Gilbert. He didn't like too much your enthusiasm for my accent, nor the one for-, you know..." he pointed clumsily to his own chest, "He did appreciate your attention to me, though; I can assure you that you're convincing him to let his guard down a little!"

The older widened his eyes. Thomas told him everything? The nickname, the nipples, the hair?

As pleased as he was to know that the French heir was slowly beginning to accept him, Alexander couldn't help but feel slightly agitated. Neither Thomas nor Gilbert could know what had gone through his mind the night before, thank goodness, but the American felt a weight crush his stomach at the thought; he couldn't deny that he wanted to do certain things with the younger of which he wasn't exactly proud.

Seeing him at the end of his rope again, panting in an attempt to hold back the tears and moans; hearing him implore his name in that accent that drove him out of his mind; he wanted to know what he looked like helpless and at his own mercy.

But now all of this terrified him.

Seeing Thomas as an instrument of pleasure, thinking of him as 'his' Thomas, imagining him needy and trembling in intimate attitudes; were these the same things King George had been thinking about? Was he becoming obsessed with the Frenchman too?

"Why did you kiss me at the waterfall?" asked Thomas suddenly, picking up another book from the shelf.

Unsure if he would prefer to remain silent or engage in yet another serious conversation of the day, Alexander simply asked in turn: "Why did you let me kiss you at the waterfall?"

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and threw his husband a sharp look from over the book: "Come on, I'm serious."

"All right," he began, "First, I hadn't kissed the groom yet and it was my right; and second", he took a quick breath of determination, "you may have intrigued me. So, the final answer to your question is: because I wanted to and because I needed to know if there was any chance that you didn't want me."

Well, it hadn't gone badly, although Thomas never looked up from the book. He was once again the one in charge of the discussion and, as such, he would take advantage of every aspect of the situation.

"Now I too would like to know why you let me kiss you" he said taking the book out of his husband's hands to put it back in its place, however Thomas stared at his hands as if the book was still there.

"I-, you intrigued me too" he admitted without noticing the American's satisfied smirk, "But it's complicated, Alexander; we've known each other for what, three days? Four if we count today. What I feel, what we both feel, could be anything: curiosity, infatuation, adrenaline; I can't name it and I don't expect you to. Just..." he wanted to tell him about that fear, he really wanted to, but it was the answer he was afraid to hear.

By now Alexander had made up his mind how to act in front of the Frenchman's hesitation, so he waited patiently for him to resume speaking, bringing two fingers under his young husband's chin.

"Just what?"

"I don't want to be just a pretty face to be used to warm the bed, I'm not piece of meat. I don't need you to love me, I understand the need to give you an heir, and I can understand your desire for intimacy as well, but if those are the only reasons for you to... to want to take a bath with me, then-"

Thomas didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, because Alexander pulled him toward him to collide their lips together in a kiss born of a desire to reassure the younger.

He projected into the kiss everything that had happened that morning: the bath, the war, the Council, the letter, the realization that he had to respond in somehow; and he was surprised to notice that that action born to appease the other was instead appeasing him. Thomas' scent was too tantalizing for Alexander's senses, as was the slight tickle the dark curls on his forehead created, but he pleasantly realized that what he wanted to do was not related to the sexual sphere. He pulled away from the prince's lips only to plant a gentle but firm kiss on his cheek, before sinking his face halfway between the hollow of his neck and the too-ringed hair, and surrounded Thomas' torso with his own arms, tightening just enough to make sure that he was really there, a living and breathing person, just like him, looking for a firm foothold in a street too dark to be crossed alone.

"You're not a piece of meat."

He felt two hands timidly make their way up his back and grab his coat as his arms closed more tightly around his chest, returning the hug.

Thomas was right, they couldn't name this thing at the moment, but Alexander couldn't wait for when they finally could.

"But you have to admit you're a pretty fa-ouch", the punch that landed on his shoulder caught the older off guard, but it didn't really hurt him.

"Do you always have to ruin our best moments?" asked Thomas partially detaching himself from the hug.

Alexander put on his best bronze expression, replying: "I may have done it twice at most, wanting to exaggerate, just like I didn't snore last night. Maybe you're imagining things."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but before he could comment, two coughs caught the attention of the two princes. Turning around, they saw Minister Adams standing, slightly awkward, holding a series of letters (which made Alexander blanch at the thought King George's letter might be among them).

"Your Highnesses, I'm sorry to interrupt what was undoubtedly a private moment" he began without bothering with Alexander's gaze, "But the Council needs Prince Alexander to review these documents, making changes where necessary."

"So everywhere," commented the American prince taking the aforementioned documents from the older man's hands, "No offense to anyone, but things would be easier for everyone if everyone in the Council was capable of doing their job."

The minister's expression was clearly vexed, and his tone didn't fail to emphasize how upset he was: "At least with these tasks you make sense of your position, Your Highness."

The air in the library became charged with tension and Thomas was almost on the verge of asking Alexander to let it go, but Adams spoke again: "In any case, the answer to the United Kingdom has absolute priority, we would like to receive it as soon as possible."

"I will not miss" Alexander quickly replied, every second of that conversation posed a danger to him and he was certain that Adams would have been willing to reveal the contents of the letter just to cause him trouble.

"Thomas, would you follow me in my study?", he began making his way to the doors without waiting for the younger's answer, but he heard him apologize to Adams before he was beside him.

God, if he was afraid of Thomas asking questions about the papers. He needed a way to credibly get out of that situation, but how? He couldn't ask him to join his cousins without looking at least a little suspicious, and there were still two hours until dinner.

Arriving too quickly in his study for his liking, Alexander had the urge to spill the beans and tell him the truth, but he sent the idea back to the farthest reaches of his mind when he saw how calm and relaxed the young Frenchman was, certain that if he had, he would have lost all the progress he had made up to that point.

He opted instead for a more casual approach: "Well, apparently I have to make up for the mediocrity and incompetence of the entire palace. I'm sorry I wasted your afternoon like this, I don't want to make you bored with this stuff; I wouldn't want to have to be bored with these things either. I won't be offended if you'd rather go somewhere else."

Thomas let his gaze wander throughout the study, lingering on the bed that had startled him the day he arrived at the palace, then turned to Alexander: "May I stay here? I won't bother you, I promise."

Alexander felt almost guilty at his husband's request.

"Of course you can, but are you sure you won't get bored? There's not much to do in here."

"Nah" replied Thomas as he reached the bed at a brisk pace to lie down comfortably, half leaning against the head of the bed and half against the mattress, "I brought something to keep me company with" he continued, showing a book in his hands that Alexander hadn't noticed before.

"What's that?" he asked more to himself than to Thomas, straining to read the title, "Ab Urbe Condita... It's in Latin, I don't remember if there's an alongside translation. Also, when did you get it?"

Thomas lifted the hardcover with a smirk.

"When you were too busy insulting Minister Adams to notice literally anything else; and I don't need the translation, I chose it precisely because it's in Latin."

"Oh, yeah!" pretended to remember Alexander heading for his desk, "Because you judge me from the top of your perfection, your self-control and-"

"And my culture!" said the younger along with the American, both of them giggling as they thought back to the kiss the day before.

"Do a good work then" wished the Frenchman before diving into the reading.

Alexander decided to start with something simple, going through the Royal expense reports for the past month and the militia reports. From time to time he cast a glance at Thomas, silent and focused on the book, his face disturbed only by a small frown that appeared when he read some structurally difficult passage, keeping his promise not to disturb.

Seeing his husband so busy reading and translating, Alexander decided to move on to foreign affairs, where the bulk of the work awaited him; as he suspected, King George's letter was there waiting for him. Alexander wondered how many wars they would have started if he hadn't checked over and over again all the nonsense Adams wrote in official documents; but he had to admit that the draft reply to King George wasn't bad, now his personal response had to be added and that was enough to send him into crisis again.

He knew what he wanted to write and he knew how to write it, but every time he brought the quill closer to the paper his hand would have stopped before the tip could touch the white paper, continuing to dip it into the inkwell as if that would help him. The more he reread the letter, the more he looked at Thomas, the more convinced he became that he was playing the same game as the English King. He wanted to write to him that he was going to enjoy every aspect of Thomas, that he was going to use 'the flame in his eyes' to warm himself, that he intended to 'contaminate' him whenever he got the chance; but immediately after thinking these things he felt sick just below his abdomen, disgusted by the realization that they didn't sound like his own words, but the Mad King's. No, he had not the strength to do that now.

Hiding the letter under all the others, he took to perusing the list of the sovereigns to thank for the wedding gifts, this would have distracted him until dinner. He had no difficulty writing to either Frederick IV of Denmark or the Papal States, but stopped when it was the turn of Leopold I of Habsburg and Charles II of Spain, knowing little to nothing of their languages. Sure, he could have written to them in Latin, but that would have been too formal for letters of thanks, especially when they were seeking all the political and military support from European states. This meant that he would be forced to write in American and then hope to find an interpreter before Adams or others came to bother him and criticize his shortcomings in foreign languages.

'As if they knew how to speak anything other than American and perhaps, very perhaps, Latin' he thought, puffing loudly as he realized there was nothing else he could do; he couldn't write his reply or even his thanks, what a day.

Giving into his own exhaustion, he dropped his head heavily on the desk, heedless of the eventual bump that would have formed, he was used to it; but as much as Alexander was used to it, Thomas was not. In fact the younger immediately lifted his head from the book to look at his husband collapsed on the small table.

“Alexander? Are you all right?" he asked quickly getting out of bed to approach his husband.

The American turned his head slightly to reveal one exhausted eye and give the younger a tired smile before settling back more or less straight in his chair and taking his head in his hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry. I'm just having a little difficulty with these letters-", a lightning bolt went through his brain, "Which languages can you speak?"

Thomas was the more surprised by the impetuosity with which the question was asked, not understanding what it had to do with the conversation: "Uh, obviously English, Italian, Greek and Latin, I do quite well with Danish, and then... oh, Spanish! A little bit of Hebrew-"

Alexander interrupted him, full of renewed hope: "Stop, we need Spanish. Do you know German, too?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow as if the question had offended him personally: "Proto-Latin or modern?"

"I have no idea of the difference, but I'll take that as a yes!", he picked up his quill again and dipped it in ink for the umpteenth time that afternoon, "Shall we start with Leopold?"

Although he didn't ask for anything explicitly, Thomas had no doubt what the older man wanted, so he simply dictated: "Zu Seiner Kaiserlichen Hoheit, dem liebsten Leopold."

Alexander looked at Thomas and Thomas looked at Alexander, remaining silent for a few of seconds.

"Are you going to tell me what to translate, or am I going to guess?"

Feeling suddenly stupid, Alexander hurried to speak: "Prince Thomas and I are immensely grateful-wait, how many 'a' there are in 'liebsten'?"

"None, what did you write?" the younger leaned over to read the paper, "Mon Dieu... How about you dictate and I write?" he asked before taking the quill from his husband's hands and sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“Yeah, I think it's better" the older agreed.

Alexander had to admit that the Frenchman was really good with foreign languages, admiring the fact that he would have spent the rest of his life speaking another language instead of French.

They finished writing all the thanks in less time than Alexander expected and used the rest of the time reading drafts of official documents or Alexander's notes to make fun of the Council or the ministers.

"I swear, Thomas, I have heard such foolishness; Pickering has proposed to self-destruct a few villages on the border of the English colonies in order to attack under the pretext of moral ransom."

"They can't kill your people if you kill them first, that's brilliant reasoning" the younger joked, "I don't see why you're making yourselves all these problems though. I'm not an expert on wars and such, but if I were you, I'd evacuate the ports and areas most at risk and reinforce them militarily."

Alexander raised an eyebrow.

"Explain yourself."

"Well, let's take the Charleston'port in South Carolina: if you move the civilians living near the port to the suburbs or a larger city let's say for two months, and use the buildings as support or military bases, when the British attack not only they would not kill any civilians, but they would find their way barred by troops they hadn't considered."

"But then we'd employ almost all the militia on the borders, we'd be dangerously vulnerable inside. Unless...", Thomas remained silent waiting to see if his husband was coming to his own conclusion, "If the French colonies will do the same, we would be covered on virtually every side and still have enough men to employ in internal security. You don't know about militias, huh? How did you come up with that idea?"

"I'm incredibly smart" he asserted proudly and boastfully, "And I've read enough classic authors to know how to defend my home for at least two days straight."

Alexander felt the corners of his own lips lift when Thomas implicitly referred to America and the palace as 'his home'. Almost instinctively he placed his hand on top of the Frenchman's, enjoying how the prince turned his own so that their palms met.

A poetic scene, knowing that the main threat to that oh-so-intimate hold they had lay only a couple of sheets beneath their hands, ready to break Alexander's fingers if need be.

\---

The only thing different from Thomas' first dinner at the palace was the arrangement of some of the seats: now Valérie sat next to Gilbert, Alexander was to his husband's right and James found himself in the middle between his brother and the little girl.

Alexander had mentioned Thomas' proposal about the troops, and although everyone (except Valérie) seemed quite interested, they agreed not to discuss it at dinner. The American thought he could get used to such evenings, where everyone seemed serene and in a chatty mood; Valérie had even managed to convince Charles to play with her and James at riddles and had won by a landslide, so James retaliated as soon as he got the chance.

"Little one, you absolutely have to try my dessert" he said handing the small fork with a piece of cake on it.

"What is it?", not that the French girl really cared since she put it in her mouth without even waiting for an answer.

James smiled devilishly: "Oh, it's Aunt Martha's recipe for Great Cake! Want to guess the ingredients?"

Alexander heard an alarm bell in his own head and immediately turned to his brother: "Great Cake?", he quickly thought of all the ingredients before realizing his brother was a monster.

"Stop!" he shouted in the little girl's direction, "It's made with ale and sherry!"

Valérie immediately stopped chewing and alternated her gaze between Thomas and Gilbert, searching for what to do. The oldest of the three ran his hands over his face, amused and exasperated by his sister, while Thomas nipped in the bud any idea his cousin had: "Don't you dare. You can't spit it out once it's in your mouth", he ignored the youngest one's pleading look, "Get your courage up and swallow it."

Defeated, Valérie went to meet her fate only to discover that the cake was delicious, the bitterness of the liqueurs being effectively counteracted by the heavy cream and candied orange.

"I'll tell you, it's not bad at all. May I have another piece?"

"No!" said Thomas and Gilbert simultaneously, causing the entire table to laugh.

When also the dessert was finished and the dishes were taken away, the atmosphere became even more cheerful. Valérie must have won Charles' sympathy, for the latter let her drag him to one of the armchairs to teach him a game of logic; Thomas, on the other hand, took James aside and they whispered near the windows, laughing foolishly from time to time.

This time it was Gilbert who approached Alexander, which could be seen as a very good sign for the American; however, he said nothing, just smiled politely at the older man.

Looking for a way to spark a conversation, Alexander asked: "Do you have an idea yet when you'll be back in France?", then hastened to clarify, "Not that I don't want you here, Thomas would keep you forever. I meant, you are to be crowned and you will have your duties, I suppose."

Gilbert laughed at the American's quick correction.

"I understood, don't worry. We'll only be here for three more days, just to be sure of both the ship and the plans for the war."

Alexander nodded slowly, thinking : "Does Thomas know?"

"I told him about it at lunch" the Dauphin replied slightly sombrely, "I'm going to miss that idiot so much, Valérie has cried three times already."

"I will treat him well, Gilbert, I swear. He will have no special obligations as the husband of the second heir, he will be able to visit you as often as he wants, and of course we will be happy to host you if you want to come back here", Alexander didn't know why he was reassuring the other by saying quite obvious things, but it seemed to him the most sensible thing to do.

"I know, I know" Gilbert said raising a hand, wanting to stop Alexander before he could start one of the rants his cousin had told him about, "Just don't make him move before the war is over, all right?", Alexander nodded with far too much energy at the question, making the younger chuckle.

"So, I only have three days to teach you as much as I can about Thomas, his habits, and France. Let's get started."

When Thomas and James ended their conversation, almost with tears in their eyes from laughing, Gilbert and Alexander were totally immersed in theirs; then the crown prince focused his attention on his uncle, while Thomas joined Valérie and Charles.

Getting closer and closer, he realized that his cousin was completely slumped on a sofa with her eyes firmly closed.

Sitting down in an armchair next to Charles', he asked in wonder: "We've been trying for years to get her to calm down to sleep, how did you do it?"

"Oh, I think it's because of the wine" replied the father-in-law nonchalantly.

"Wine? What wine?" he continued to ask, half confused and half worried.

Charles smiled at the younger's expression: "The one she stole from James while no one was looking. She told me just now, I would have stopped her if I had seen her!"

Thomas sighed: "Serves her right for that scoundrel. God knows what she's been up to and what she'll be up to."

"She's still a very nice and bright young lady, it would seem a typical trait in your family" complimented Charles.

"Speaking of family!" remembered the Frenchman, "I wanted to thank you for yesterday, for everything. Your son was very kind and respected my time. It's not the most delicate subject to talk about, but it seemed right to tell you!"

Charles smiled warmly at his son-in-law: "Oh, I'm so very happy about that! I understand you also discussed military strategy together?"

"Not really, let's just say it all stemmed from Alexander complaining about the Council" he replied slightly embarrassed at their childish behavior that afternoon, "From the way he talks about it, it seems to be a living hell."

"Yes, well, he's always a bit exaggerated, but after this morning he had every reason to be upset, that letter upset everyone, I think. But the real question is, how are you? It must be hard."

He was seriously worried, Thomas really reminded him a lot of both Rachel and Charlotte (before the depression, at least), and he was afraid to see what effect those disturbing words might have had on the newest member of the family.

But Thomas didn't seem worried at all, nor remotely perturbed, he appeared more confused by the question: "I'm fine, in the end we all knew we were going to go to war with this marriage, I just didn't expect it to happen so soon."

This sent Charles into mental confusion, how could the Frenchman ignore such clear threats against him and Alexander?

"Aren't you the least bit worried about King George?" he asked incredulously.

"No, no, I am, I know he's not to be trifled with, however...", another laugh more similar to a sigh of relief left his lungs, "Until this morning I thought I could somehow still interest him, so when Alexander told me that the letter only contained the declaration of war I finally felt calm after I don't even know how much longer. Of course, I'm definitely not happy about the war, but on a personal level that letter freed me."

'Freed?', Charles' mind went in a thousand different directions in search of a meaningful thought, 'That letter is a condemnation to his life and he thinks he King George isn't interested in him?!'

Then all the directions in his head came together to form one big path: he knew nothing.

Alexander had said nothing to Thomas about the letter, Gilbert had said nothing to Thomas about the letter, and now he was saying nothing to Thomas about the letter.

As much as the impulse to go get the letter himself and have his son-in-law read it seemed insurmountable, he tried his best to put on a peaceful expression. It was neither his right nor his duty to tell him, but something had to be done.

"Just as good then, I'm glad everything went well, but I think I'll withdraw now, facing the Council isn't easy for anyone" he said with a wink and a complicit smile.

"Oh, of course, I think we'll do the same. I'll take care of her" he added casting a glance at his cousin.

With a last smile, Charles walked toward his brother and oldest son, feigning naturalness and friendliness. When he was close enough for only them to hear him, he whispered: "We need to talk. All the four of us."

They both knew immediately that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation and James hurried to his brother to warn him. Fortunately, Thomas also rushed to the table to ask Gilbert for a hand with the cousin, who was determined to keep her eyes closed.

So, as Gilbert with some difficulty picked up his sister, Thomas turned to his husband: "Have a good night; will I have to come over in the morning or later?"

"What?", Alexander wrinkled his brow slightly, "Don't we sleep together?"

This time it was Thomas' turn to wrinkle: "You... want to sleep with me?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I?" he asked only to realize that this wasn't such a normal thing in an arranged marriage, "I mean, only if you want too, we don't have to-"

"No, it's fine, better actually" interrupted Thomas smiling, "I'll wait for you then, don't be too late. "

\---

Alexander really hoped he wouldn't be too late, but upon entering his stepfather's private sitting room he quickly realized he wasn't going to make it.

Charles was visibly angry and kept walking around the room with heavy and loud footsteps, and he didn't stop until all three men were standing in front of him.

"Why he doesn't know anything?!" he asked in an accusatory tone.

The three looked at each other confused before George asked on behalf of them all: "Who doesn't know what?"

Somehow the question made Charles even more upset.

"The kid, Thomas. Why didn't you tell him about the letter?"

At this point everyone turned to look at Alexander, who felt all the guilt he had ignored the afternoon return in a single moment.

"I thought you told him about it, what happened?", James himself suddenly looked sterner.

"I wanted to" Alexander tried to defend himself, "I tried, I really did; but as soon as I mentioned England, he became so tense, he panicked this morning at the very mention of King George. I wanted to reassure him."

"And hiding him the truth seemed to you the best thing to do?!", Charles forced himself to calm down and adjust the tone of his voice, "It's his right to know, Alexander."

"He's right, Alex" James said calmly.

Three simple words were enough to make the younger lose all certainty. Normally he would have replied, let out his frustration and raised his voice until he could no longer speak; instead, he remained silent, realizing every second more the reality he had denied until that moment: he was wrong.

"No", George's authoritative voice snapped everyone to attention, giving rise to a small amount of hope in that part of Alexander still convinced he had done the right thing.

"If he hasn't said anything it's because he knows what he's doing. Clearly Thomas can't handle the news, we can't blame Alexander for wanting to protect him, it's his pater-familias role."

If Alexander was relieved by his uncle's support, James was surprised and somewhat distraught. Charles, on the other hand, felt all the anger he had controlled up to that point come flooding back.

"His role is to respect his husband and support him through difficulties, they need to be able to trust each other, George."

“As delicate as the situation may be, if the problem doesn't show up on our doorstep armed and with a real threat, why can't we just live peacefully instead of creating ghosts and paranoia? If that means keeping secrets, we'll just have to put up with it, Charles."

Both princes knew that by now the letter had faded into the background, letting confusion and curiosity of knowing what the two were talking about take control of their attention.

Charles' expression became unreadable, though James had the impression that he had seen resentment for a split second. Forcing a strained smile, he said glacially: "Of course. After all, this is what our family does best, isn't it? Keeping secrets and pretending everything is fine."

George feared his brother might say something else, but Charles turned his attention to his sons: "I think your uncle and I need to talk alone. Alexander, please, make your next decisions carefully, beginning with your response to King George. You may go."

Once in the hallway it was quite hard to decide what to talk about first, if they were a few years younger they would have sticked their ears to the double doors to hear something of the talk between George and Charles.

Instead, James asked in a hushed tone: "You're not going to tell him anything, are you?"

Alexander didn't expect his brother to actually disagree with him: "James, what do you expect me to do? If you have a solution that will neither make me lose Thomas' trust nor terrify him, please tell me."

Unfortunately, the older couldn't give Alexander what he wanted, but he could remind him of something important: "Mom, Alex, mine and yours. I don't want another person dead because its heart was torn apart."

“James-”

The older continued before his brother could speak: "I'm not saying you're going to do it, but you don't know what the future holds. What if Thomas finds the letter? You need to make it disappear, Alex."

After Alexander nodded, not knowing what else to do, they stood in silence looking at the doors to Charles' rooms, unusually quiet for what was shaping up to be a heavy discussion/fight.

Shaking his head with a sigh, James turned to his brother again: "I think you'd better go to Thomas, maybe your evening will be enjoyable again" he said smiling.

However, after saying their goodbyes for the night, Alexander continued to his rooms, determined to settle the matter of the letter once and for all.

Sitting at his desk, with a nearby candle as the only source of light, the prince read one last time the part of the text that concerned him. Then he opened the second drawer on the left, where he kept his most important documents, lifted the hidden drawer and hid the letter under all the other more uncomfortable or compromising papers, certain that it would be safe from anyone there.

Finally, he took to writing the letter.

_To King George of England and all his territories,_

_the Kingdom of America takes note of Your declaration of war and Your misleading accusations. King George Washington and his Government have decided to accept the diplomatic-economic separation from the English companies, quite useless if not for the importation of tea, and to face Your war with the sole purpose of defending our territories._

_Best regards, in the hope that Your Person can recover from these acts of pure normality._

"Good thing you didn't have to be late."

Alexander felt his heart reach his throat, caught completely off guard by the voice to his left. Thomas watched him from the door hidden in the wall, in his nightgown and carrying a candle-holder.

"Damn it", he had totally forgotten that his husband was waiting for him to go to sleep, "It slipped my mind, I'm really sorry. It's just that when we argue all together, I don't think straight anymore and to calm myself down I come here to work, but it was never a problem before because no one was waiting for me. I didn't do it on purpose, I-"

Thomas placed the candle on the desk: "Yes, yes, you swear, I get it" he commented surrounding the American with his arms from behind the chair, "Is that the response to the United Kingdom?"

"Mh-mh" Alexander thanked his lucky stars that he had stashed the letter away before he started to write, or he would definitely be screwed at that point.

"I like the dig at tea production" he commented taking a quick look at the text, "You're so uptight, are you all right?"

Alexander chuckled: "If I'm all right? I'm totally fine, don't you see?"

"Using sarcasm with me won't do you any good, you just risk a knife in the face in the morning" he said and emphasized the threat by tightening his arms slightly on the American's neck.

Alexander hastened to apologize, placing a hand on one of Thomas' arms: "Wow, I get it, sorry", they both laughed softly, "It's just been a rough day after a rough month."

The American felt his husband stiffen for a moment before relaxing again, his arms now moved down his chest and his fingers fiddled with his collar. The warm and light breath brushed against Alexander's ear, sending shivers down his spine and an involuntary arousal of his groin.

"Maybe I know how to make you relax" he whispered in his ear before moving to the left side of the chair.

Alexander moved away from the desk, but remained seated, turning the angle of the chair toward the Frenchman, waiting to see what he meant. Without warning, Thomas stepped much closer and gently parted the older prince's legs to kneel between them. As carefully as he had removed his medals and shirt the night before, he began unbuttoning his husband's trousers.

Alexander managed to get out of his bubble of inebriation and excitement just in time to place a hand on his husband's, trying to maintain some semblance of self-control: "What are you doing?"

Thomas looked at Alexander as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: "I'm helping you."

Without meeting any resistance, the younger He finished unbuttoning the American's trousers and began working on the laces of his underwear.

There was a moment of hesitation from both of them when it was nothing but the pleasant summer air that separated Alexander's member from Thomas; but the latter quickly recovered and, with one last look at the American, placed his own lips on his husband's glans, laying two quick kisses on the side before taking it into his mouth.

If he had stopped, he would have sunk into embarrassment, so Thomas gave himself no time to think and began moving his tongue around the circumference, slowly over the tip and teasingly around the edges.

Alexander muttered his appreciation and brought a hand through his husband's soft hair as the Frenchman slid a few more inches into his mouth.

Soon Thomas needed to place his hands on Alexander's legs to get a better grip, straining to keep moving his tongue over the ever-increasing length. He knew he wasn't even halfway done, but he already felt he wouldn't be able to go much further if he wanted to keep breathing.

Noticing the Frenchman's slight trudge, Alexander moved his hands from the thighs to the base of his own penis, moving them suggestively as a prompting. Thomas then gently stroked the older's scrotum and ran his other hand more firmly over the part of the penis he could not reach.

Quite pleased with his own work so far, considering he had never done it before, he managed to get a few more inches and finally began to move back and forth, slowly rocking his head and being careful not to lean his teeth.

The scene would forever remain etched in Alexander's memory. He didn't think he could take all the heat Thomas was giving him and had to calm himself down several times to avoid getting too excited; but when Thomas was forced to pull away due to the need for air, causing a small 'pop' at the parting of his lips, the older prince's intentions were shattered by the sight of Thomas on his knees, his hands still on Alexander's manhood, gasping for air and with a trickle of saliva running down his chin.

His erect penis visibly twitched, showcasing his dorsal vein, and the tip became wet with pre-ejaculatory fluid. It hardened even more when Thomas, still panting, returned to licking his glans. This time he kissed the very center of it, letting the liquid polish his lips in the backlight of the candles, before moving away again to run his tongue from the base of his penis down the length of it. Each time he reached the tip, he'd take it partially into his mouth only to part with it a moment later, giving Alexander no time to enjoy the warmth of his lips.

Tired and frustrated by his husband's treatment, Alexander forced his grip in Thomas' hair just enough to bring him back to sucking his penis a little further than where the Frenchman had stopped earlier.

The sudden invasion of his mouth caught Thomas off guard and when he felt his own uvula being repeatedly rubbed and hit by Alexander's glans, he had to force himself not to pull away and cough. However, despite his efforts, he could not suppress a moan that found his way blocked by the American’s length.

The vibrations shook Alexander's skin and nerves, and he brought his other hand up through the curly hair and started to move the Frenchman's head back and forth, getting more of his member into his mouth.

Although what scared Thomas the most was the gag reflex, he didn't even have time to think about it: Alexander kept hitting the back of his throat so fast that he got used to it after a couple of thrusts. The real difficulty came when Alexander began to move his hips to reach deeper, preventing him from breathing steadily. When the older forced himself past the uvula to invade the pharynx, Thomas' vision became fogged by his reflex tears and he had to force himself to try to breathe normally.

He knew Alexander would have stopped right away if he had given him a sign, but by now he could feel the flesh in his mouth getting hotter and hotter, and he knew it wouldn't be long before it was all over, so he stroked his husband's testicles again and let out a few more guttural sounds.

Stimulated by the new round of vibrations, Alexander felt his own semen start to come out of his urethra and pulled back, not wanting to force the younger to have it in his mouth, although it had always been one of his favourite fantasies.

However, he couldn't stop his own orgasm in time and the sperm poured onto the Frenchman's tongue just before he managed to get out of his mouth. Now Thomas' lips were only connected to Alexander's penis by a trickle of saliva and the younger began to breathe deeply between one cough and another; the American hurriedly passed a handkerchief over the Frenchman's lips while he sat exhausted on the floor, resting his head on the older's legs.

Massaging his sore knees with one hand and picking up the handkerchief with the other, Thomas was about to empty his mouth of the hot semen on the fabric, but stopped when, with a breathy laugh, Alexander mimicked him: "You can't spit it out once it's in your mouth!"

Thomas took it as a challenge and Alexander barely had time to realize it before the Frenchman swallowed it all with a look and a grin of satisfying victory.

"God, I didn't actually mean it. You didn't have to-"

"I know you wanted me to, it wasn't as disgusting as I expected" Thomas reassured him, snickering at the older's expression.

Alexander thinned his gaze: "What do you mean you knew?"

"I asked James if you had ever confided to him anything you were curious to try and he was kind enough to offer me several options."

_< <I think you'd better go to Thomas, maybe your evening will be enjoyable again.>>_

‘That damned rat' Alexander thought.

Closing his eyes and settling more comfortably between his husband's legs, Thomas asked: "So, do you feel more relaxed?"

Alexander laughed stroking Thomas' hair with his left hand: "If I feel more relaxed? How about I go deliver this to my stepfather while you lay down in bed and get ready for the best massage of your life?"

"Will I have to come looking for you again and drag you to bed by your ear like a child?" asked Thomas with a sceptical smile.

"No!" replied the American happily, using his right hand to write one last sentence on the half-forgotten paper on his desk, "I'm not going to do anything but deliver the letter, wish my stepfather a good night and run to you to make you happy."

"Hmm... then why don't you get me something to munch on? It would make me very happy indeed" Thomas said as he slowly got up from the ground, not wanting to strain his knees too much.

"Why do you Americans eat dinner so early? You're going to make me bring a snack every night."

"Do you still want to put something in your mouth?" asked Alexander, chuckling when Thomas raised an eyebrow and puckered his lips to the side, “I'll see if I can get you a piece of cake and no more jokes, I get it!"

\---

Entering his stepfather's chambers, Alexander was rather surprised to see him still up and about in the living room: "Sorry about the time, I want to get rid of this thing as soon as possible", he still couldn't get over the fact that the answer was so simple and concise.

"Alex, what-"

Thinking back, he began again: "Sorry, I meant Alexander", he picked up the letter that was brought to him and began to read, "Are you sure this is the definitive response?"

"Yes, I don't think there's anything else to add, at least not for me."

Charles smiled as he read the last sentence, pleased with the choice of words. Then, lowering the letter, he said: "Look, I didn't mean to yell before, I let myself-"

"It's all right" the young man interrupted, "I hope you've worked things out with uncle George."

"Uh...", Charles let his gaze wander around the room, "Yes, kind of... Why don't you go to bed now? It's getting late and I'm sure you've been pretty disturbed today."

"Sure, I'll go" he said thankful that there had been no awkward moments at least in that discussion, "Well, goodnight" he concluded, disappearing from the room.

Charles decided it wasn't worth staying up any longer, he wouldn't have achieved anything by continuing to think about his problems. Instead, he headed to the bedroom, smilingly rereading the end of the letter one last time.

_Thank you for the kind congratulations on the wedding, I assure you that Prince Thomas and I will enjoy every bit of joy in our marriage without worrying about Insignificant or humanly indecent external threats._

_Looking forward to seeing you at the surrender table,_

_Prince Alexander of America_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I apologize for the huge delay, but we all know what the Christmas and New Year's season is like!  
> After that, there will be a time jolt in the next chapter because, you know, plot requirements *insert Spongebob finger-gun meme*


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It sounds crazy, but Thomas' dream takes a lot of inspiration from a dream I had myself. I swear, I was distressed for two days.

The days followed one another and the last puffs of summer heat gave way to the cooler air of early autumn.

The war became the main topic of conversation among the nobles and, however much they avoided it, even in the Royal Family they almost always ended up talking about military matters. The first attacks took place towards the middle of July, although without causing heavy losses on either side; the British troops seemed unwilling to attack decisively and there was no sign of the British fleet. Despite this leading most to believe that it wasn't going to be a violent war, the entire Council was certain that King George was just waiting for the right moment to cause the most damage and loss.

For the first few weeks the royal couple spent almost all their time together, separating only when strictly necessary, and that had solidified their relationship more than both of them could have imagined; but Alexander's presence was increasingly required, and by mid-August it became difficult to even have meals together. Both princes, however, faced it head-on, coming to the decision to sleep in the same room, making them one of the few royal couples to share the bed every night.

They both rolled up their sleeves and got to work. The first few days without his cousins were pretty bleak for the Frenchman's morale, but Thomas created his own routine, spending most of his time in the fresh air, playing or teaching Peggy the basics of piano, which was quite a feat. He missed playing violin for Alexander (not that he would have admitted it in front of the older), but he made the acquaintance of other nobles with a passion for music and at least he could entertain himself with them; he wouldn't have called them 'friends', but that was already something.

Now, at the end of the first week of September, it was clear that something important was about to happen: the Council room was always closed and full of murmurs, and arguments never seemed to be missing.

Alexander began to worry about being the first one to wake up in the morning; usually Thomas was the morning one, especially since the younger had agreed to sleep on the window side instead of the American.

Peering past his husband's thick hair to observe his tightly closed eyes and slightly bothered expression, Alexander decided to take a chance and wake him up, but after the third time he called his name, it became clear enough that Thomas was simply ignoring him.

"Thomas?" he called one last time, before resorting to his double-edged sword, "Tom? Tommy?"

A low, annoyed mutter, more like the sound of some wild animal, rose from the other side of the bed in what must have been a: "Don't call me that."

"He's alive? He's alive! For a moment I was worried I needed to find a new husband" Alexander joked without receiving any response other than another mutter.

"How's your headache?"

"It would be better if you hadn't woken me up" the younger replied touchily, without moving from his position.

"I just asked if you feel any better, how grumpy we are this morning" Alexander amusedly noted, "Don't you think you should offer me some apologies?"

"No. Help me to get up, my back is killing me."

In a moment, Alexander had Thomas resting his back on the pillow, concerned by his husband's various gasps.

"Do you feel like getting up? I can get you something to eat here in bed."

Thomas shook his head with half-closed eyes: "The mere thought of eating makes me want to vomit."

"I don't like this" the older murmured, "We should call a doctor" he continued, resting a hand on the Frenchman's forehead.

Thomas swatted the hand away from his face like it was a fly.

"Or maybe I'm just not used to this weather change. There's no need for a doctor, stop proposing it to me", and nagging him more than anything else, the American begged him to be visited since the first day he felt the first pains.

"If you weren't so stubborn about acting like you're doing fine maybe I wouldn't have to keep proposing it" Alexander shot back at him.

Thomas huffed audibly and let himself sink back into the sheets, bringing an arm over his eyes: "Don't you have any meetings or gatherings coming up this morning? This might be the first time your presence is more welcome there than here."

" Let's do this" the older exclaimed, "If you swear not to get out of bed until at least your nausea is gone, I won't call the doctor. Deal?"

Thomas shifted his arm a little to peek at his husband's face before huffing one more time.

"All right. Now let me sleep."

Alexander leaned over to leave a small kiss on the younger's forehead: "I'll get dressed as quietly as I can!", and though he hadn't been very good at being quiet, the Frenchman fell back to sleep almost immediately.

Thomas' dreams had all been more or less strange in the last while, some were definitely classifiable as nightmares, and two or three times he had dreamed about his mind palace. He had never had any difficulty in delineating or defining his dreams, whether they were peaceful or distressing, in broad strokes he always knew what was going on; but he had never found himself dreaming anything like this.

He stood in what looked to all intents and purposes like a cemetery, uncomfortably bright and white, with no other colours present, in front of a headstone with no name written on it. He took a look around, trying to rely on his own senses, but he never felt something similar before; he had experienced incredibly realistic dreams, but this one was far more than realistic.

His eyesight was limited, he could count five lines of tombstones before the light got too glaring. Bracing himself, he searched for anything: an inscription, a name, a person; but the more he searched, the less he found, the only thing in that place were unmarked white headstones.

Convinced that he had now looked at all five rows he turned to look at the center, only to realize that he was somehow back there. He turned away from that first grave as if it contained all the diseases of the world and ran as far as he could, but each time he glanced back he found that he was only a few inches from the white stone.

His restlessness soon turned into fear, and just as quickly, the farthest graves were swallowed up by the blinding light, leaving him less and less room to move. When even the last row disappeared into the light, Thomas let himself fall to the ground, his back against the headstone from which there was no longer any point in escaping. What was going to happen? What was that place? Why couldn't he wake up? The only thing he could do was to wrap his knees around himself and hide his face, letting out the tears and sobs; the light would devour him too, it was only a matter of time.

A shift of air near his ear was all Thomas felt of a presence behind him. Rising faster than he thought he ever could, he turned to face whoever was behind him, only to be blinded even more. There was no person or anything identifiable as such, just a large oval-shaped light the size of a person of average height, so white it made everything around it look gray.

Thomas couldn't tell if his sight became accustomed to the light or if it became less painful by its own nature, but somehow he managed to glimpse two eyes staring at him from above. Against all expectation, all fear and disquiet left every millimeter of his mind and heart; those eyes were so serene and sweet, devoid of judgment and full of shrewdness and understanding.

They stood looking at each other in silence for what seemed an eternity, then Thomas' gaze flickered to the headstone at his feet. Pointing to it hesitantly he forced himself to ask: "Is it mine?"

"What makes you think that?"

Thomas could not tell if the voice belonged to a man or a woman, an elder or a child, nor could he tell where it came from. Absolute silence reigned around him; it almost seemed as if the voice had spoken directly into his head.

"If it's not mine, then whose is it?"

Those eyes softened even more, and one hand reached forward to wipe away the tears Thomas hadn't realized he'd shed again.

"We're not here for anything like that", the fingers stopped stroking Thomas' cheek to move to the center of his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, "On the contrary, this should be cause for great joy for you-"

The hand moved again, settling on his belly before concluding: "And for your spouse."

Thomas quickly raised his head to look again into the eyes. Immediately something imitated the path of the hand and then he understood what he was feeling, what was happening and finally realized that he was there, not for death, but for life.

"But why the tombstones?" he asked still unsure about that place.

"Life always begins where it ends. Now do what you must, then go to Alexander and rejoice in the grace that has been granted to you. Farewell, Thomas."

The awakening was one of the most instantaneous Thomas had ever had, opening his eyes at the same moment he lifted his back off the mattress to sit up in bed. With his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in an attempt to breathe in as much air as possible, his mind was bombarded with the all too clear memories of the dream.

He absolutely had to get up.

Jumping out of bed, he ran in search of any quick and easy garment to put on, but had to stop almost immediately: the nausea was still there and seemed to be fighting violently against Thomas' will to leave.

'So this is the reason for all those pains,' the young prince thought sarcastically.

Too sore and in a hurry to care, he merely put on his breeches and shirt, and couldn't care less about not wearing a waistcoat or topcoat. It wasn't exactly his best regal look, but it mattered little, the sooner he hurried, the sooner he could go to Alexander.

Step number one: the chapel on the third floor, hoping to find the priest.

\---

Thomas was surprised at how late it had gotten, he had slept more than he had expected, it's true, but the discussion with the priest seemed to go on forever. Fortunately, his dream was confirmed as true; unfortunately, the priest took the liberty to take him back to his bedroom and call a doctor.

If Thomas thought there was nothing worse than being visited by a doctor he had never seen before, he had to change his mind: being visited by a doctor he had never seen before while a priest was telling his mystical visions was a thousand times worse. At least both of them gave him some explanations and some information about what was going to happen until March, the month scheduled for birth.

Going up the stairs afterwards was a challenge for the young prince, as well as walking through the hallways of the second floor; it seemed to him that those hateful hands were still holding his legs open and no matter how hard he tried to chase away the shame of the 'medical visit', it didn't leave him for a moment until he arrived in front of the Council room.

The guards snapped to attention as soon as they saw the prince arrive; the palace defences were fortified and now the most important rooms were always guarded and protected by at least two guards. Thomas was still not fully comfortable with their presence, but he assumed that was the same for everyone, it was for their safety after all.

With a small, embarrassed smile, he walked over to knock on the door, but his way was cut off by the two guards and their halberds. Continuing to look stoically ahead, one of them said: "We can't let anyone through. His Majesty's orders."

"Oh, no, don't worry! I don't want to come in, I just need to have a word with my husband" the prince replied, trying to reach the door.

"We can't let anyone through" repeated the same guard from before, blocking the road again.

At this point Thomas closed his eyes and showed a tight-lipped smile: "And I assure you that you are doing it very well. Truly, perfect guards, I will not fail to mention this to the King", he placed a hand on one of the halberds as a hint to have it removed, "Now, if you would let me speak to my husband-"

"We cannot let you in, our apologies, Your Highness," intervened the second guard.

"Yes, you've already said that, I understand," replied Thomas stiffly, feeling his own composure wane, "Then, since you can't let me in, could you at least tell Prince Alexander that I wish to see him immediately?", both guards looked at each other briefly before shaking their heads.

"I mean, this is absurd! You know who I am, yes?"

The guards exchanged another look, confused and slightly intimidated, before answering together: "Prince Thomas."

"That's right, and do you also know who I'm married to?"

"To Prince Alexander" they replied, increasingly unsure.

"Precisely him, who happens to be the second heir to the throne and the King's nephew, and I am more than certain that both of them will assure you that I can safely enter this beautiful room that you are so meticulously guarding", Thomas returned to a forced smile, "So, how about now you simply let me knock?"

When the guards shook their heads again, both of them worried in the face, Thomas' patience came to an end: "We're wasting more time than we would if you'd let me pass!"

"Your Highness, please don't shout" the guard on the left asked in a soft voice.

"You think I'm shouting?! If I shouted properly at least I could get Alexander out of that stupid room!"

'Composure, Thomas, composure and self-control' recalled a little voice in his head.

Recomposing himself as best he could, he approached the guard on the left more determined than ever and, in the most controlled voice he could get at that moment, began: "Look, I understand that you have strict orders, I understand that you have to protect the Council members and all that stuff, but it's not even noon and I've already had one of the weirdest and heaviest days of my life. Even if I wanted to hurt someone in there, I wouldn't be physically able to, not only because a good portion of them is militarily trained, but also because I haven't slept decently in at least a week, my back feels like it's been trampled by a horse, I have a headache so persistent that it's been here since before you two were placed in this wing of the palace, and every part of my body screams in pain at the slightest movement. Add to that the fact that I've been going up and down from the first to the third floor since this morning, and my nausea could-"

He had to stop his own rant when his head began to throb again so badly it gave him the impression that it had been hit by a hammer.

Somehow, he benefitted from the grief, because at the sight of the prince with his eyes closed and hissing in pain, both guards panicked, babbling about what to do. Seizing his chance, Thomas slumped onto the chest of the guard on his left, trying not to laugh at the agitation of the two.

Thomas felt himself being lifted into his arms as the man panicked: "What do I do?! Where do I take him?!"

"Have him lie down somewhere, I don't know, in the first room you find! They are all going to be so upset about this..."

Thomas admitted to himself that he had gone a tad overboard, but at least he had gotten what he wanted: he clearly heard the other guard knock on the door and call out Alexander's name as he was laid down on a couch in the next room.

It was really only a matter of a few moments before the American prince stormed into the room, pushing aside the guard at Thomas' side.

"What happened! You know what, never mind. Go back to your position" he cut short to the guard, who gladly obeyed the command.

"This is exactly what I wanted to avoid! Now you see why you have to see a doctor when you feel sick?!"

“Alexander-”

"No, no 'Alexander' this time" the older interrupted angrily and worriedly, "I'm calling the doctor right now, whether you like it or not."

"Alexander, I've already seen the doctor" said Thomas calmly, still comfortably lying down.

The information astonished the American and although the anger had already faded away completely, he maintained a stern tone and expression: "Ah. And what did he say?"

"Nothing I didn't already know, so it was actually quite unnecessary, except to make me uncomfortable and sore even more."

"Yes, you don't like doctors, you've made that clear", Alexander huffed unnerved as he went to sit down next to the Frenchman, "Could you just tell me what's wrong instead of continuing to complain like a child?"

Thomas smiled, curious to see his husband's reaction.

“Well, maybe the reason I'm acting like a child is because I'm expecting one."

Alexander froze on the spot, letting only his eyes move up and down from the younger's belly to his face, his lips parted and suddenly dry.

"You think you're-"

"I know I am."

Thomas was briefly concerned that Alexander hadn't taken the news well, considering the absence of any sort of reaction, but the seconds of silence were quickly replaced and made up for by the snickers and half-hearted words that filled the room at the same time the older rose from his seat to fidget all around.

Among the thousands of meaningless sentences, Alexander tried to form a couple of questions, the most urgent and interesting ones, resisting the temptation to vent all the happiness on the Frenchman: "But when did it-How long have you known?

"I don't know, maybe since nine this morning, but I got the formal confirmation before I came here. I think it's the fruit of one of our first nights together, if not the very first" Thomas answered, relieved and amused by his husband's excitement, as he took to getting up.

"Stay seated! You must not exert yourself" admonished the American, alarmed, placing his hands on the shoulders of the younger to make him stay on the couch, "I can't believe it happened so soon!"

Thomas shook off his husband's hands, continuing to stand up: "I just entered my third month, Alexander. Don't start treating me like a piece of porcelain", changing the subject he added, "I was surprised too, considering you haven't done much these past few months to secure the Divine Favor."

Alexander rolled his eyes at the provocation, retorting: "We're lucky your faith is big enough for the both of us!", then laid a kiss on his cheek, "We have to find a way to tell the others! We could put some fear into them-"

"We can discuss it tonight and do it tomorrow, I'm afraid I've already stolen you from the Council for too long... That face won't help you" he commented at the sight of the pitiful pout.

Alexander circled Thomas like a predator waiting to attack its prey. As he came up behind him, he whispered diabolically: "Then I must change my method of persuasion."

The next thing Thomas knew he was being pushed to sit on the couch and Alexander's fingers were dancing deftly and cruelly along his sides, knowing every weak and vulnerable spot.

"Alexander, no! Alex-Enough!" but the pleas between laughs did nothing to make the American stop, if anything they encouraged him more in his attack, "Tu es un énorme conn-Alexandre! All right! We'll tell him at dinner, now stop it!"

Alexander retreated in satisfaction. Returning in front of his husband, he offered him a hand to get up and, ignoring the disappointment on his face, they left the room together.

"It's a shame you gave in, with these clothes you had me thinking of another way to convince you..." he whispered once in the hallway, knowing full well that this would have made the Frenchman blush.

Quickly separating himself from Alexander, he pointed his finger at him accusingly: "You really are the worst person I have ever met! I'm not at all sorry for hitting you these days!"

"But you haven't hit me" the older pondered confusedly as he watched his husband walk away down the hallway.

"Not while you were awake!" retorted Thomas aloud, determined to be offended.

\---

Since the addition of a new member, the Royal Family seemed to rediscover the regularity of being at the table together. Three months with almost no quarrels was a miracle in there, and all four Americans feared that everything could end at any moment, which is why private matters were hardly ever discussed.

Both American princes were slightly jealous of the relationship between Thomas and Charles, or rather, they were jealous of the Charles that Thomas could bring out, the one that confused them, the sweet and helpful, friendly and fatherly one that they only saw once in a while. Despite his envy, Alexander managed to restrain himself from commenting or warning the Frenchman, sure that he would only end up looking like an idiot; if they didn't have a boy, the Charles he was used to would finally show himself to Thomas as well.

"So" Alexander exclaimed in the middle of the second course, "If our presence were required on the battlefield, how would we organize the palace?"

"I'm not leaving you the throne, don't worry" James said feigning annoyance, earning a testy grimace from his brother.

George chuckled before answering: "Be quiet. There should be a document for these things..."

"The Regency Act" Charles helped to remind, "If no direct heir of the dynasty can discharge the duties of the sovereign, the duty of temporary regent passes to the nearest member of the Royal Family, in this case, Thomas. If not even Thomas could be found, the Circle of His Majesty would probably come into effect".

The King nodded quickly, pointing to his brother: "Thank you very much, Charles. Now, it seems very unlikely to me that we would ever find ourselves in such a situation! I doubt that at least one of us couldn't stay here in the palace" he let a chuckle escape, "After all, there are five of us!"

"Six" Thomas corrected softly, as if he hadn't said anything important.

Silence surrounded the entire room and Alexander had to bring a hand to his mouth to keep from flashing a smile.

James started counting with his index the people sitting at the table like a child. When he was sure they were indeed five he pointed insistently at Thomas and stared at his brother without saying a word, letting the question be asked only by a quick movement of his finger from bottom to top, in what must have been a way of pointing to the Frenchman's stomach.

Deciding that he had kept them all on their toes enough, Alexander straightened up, bringing his chest out slightly, and proudly announced: "Alexander has his heir!"

At this point, both George and James quickly stood up from their seats to huddle around Thomas, blithely ignoring Alexander (actually, James purposely pushed his brother's chair in hopes of knocking him over).

Now the room seemed to have a minimum of ten other people in it and Alexander watched stunned as all three of the older men overwhelmed Thomas with questions, congratulations and attention; distraught when James took to talking to the youngest's stomach.

"James, I don't think it can hear you, it's too small" the Frenchman commented amused.

"Better let him know right away who's going to be his favourite in here!" the brother-in-law replied excitedly, "In fact, I'll have you get two servings of dessert, so you put on some weight, which wouldn't hurt, and my nephew or niece can start loving me!"

"This is bribery, James, not love" criticized Alexander, eager to annoy his brother.

George laid a hand on the young Frenchman's shoulder, disconsolate at the sight of the two princes starting a heated argument, complete with the occasional head slap. Charles, instead, took advantage of the general distraction to ask in a whisper: "May I put my hand on it?"

Thomas blinked a couple of times, surprised by the question; he had expected something like this from James, but the way his father-in-law asked it made his heart melt.

"Of course! You're the grandfather, after all!"

Charles hesitated for a moment before putting his hand on it, gently caressing Thomas' belly with the same attention of a gemmologist in front of a rare and unknown stone. Thomas stood staring at his father-in-law's eyes, full of emotion and something else he couldn't identify, being even more fascinated when a broken sob of excitement left the older man's throat.

"It's wonderful..." he said hastily withdrawing his hand, "Sorry, I know it's too early to feel anything, but... It brought back some good memories, that's all."

Thomas softened even more and took his father-in-law's wrist with more haste than he should have: "Don't apologize, you can do it whenever you want, it will only make me happy!"

Charles merely smiled without adding anything else. Thomas remained so focused on him that he almost didn't remember the others in the room until the voice over his shoulder asked: "My Dear, have you seen a doctor yet?"

"Uh, yes, Alexander would have gone crazy if I hadn't..."

'Why is everyone so obsessed with these doctors?!'

"Anyway, he said everything's fine so far, the aches and pains are completely normal."

George looked thoughtful for a moment: " Mh... Perhaps it would be appropriate to-"

"Dessert!" shouted James from his fight with Alexander, "I won't let you ruin my dessert! Go sit down and behave decently, you treacherous subversive."

Alexander's response wasn't long in coming: "You slothful, incompetent, stubborn. You will be the ruin of this kingdom!"

"Ugh" the King huffed exasperatedly, "We'll talk about this next time, excuse me, Thomas. You two, stop it and sit down!"

\---

The next day, Peggy was summoned by Thomas to the formal meeting-room after breakfast; apparently a ship had arrived from India with a 'special cargo' and the prince wanted to share the surprise with her.

Peggy was relatively happy with her life in the palace, she enjoyed Thomas' company and even Alexander's (when he wasn't busy elsewhere), however being a lady-in-waiting was a more restrictive role than she had expected. For example, she could no longer visit the rest of her family without notifying at least a week in advance, and it was annoying to put up with all the opportunistic nobles who sought her out just for a place in the prince's family.

Except for that, it was moments like this that made her appreciate her closeness to the crown; who else, other than the Royal Family and the guards, could have witnessed first-hand the opening of a 'special cargo' from a land so far away?

The air was a bit tense, due to the fact that India was under British rule and, since America was at war with the United Kingdom, theoretically it was also at war with India.

There was nothing particularly interesting in the pleasantries between the ambassador and the King, but the really interesting part that Peggy and the others present paid attention to was when the Indian ambassador handed a letter with an elegant wax seal to the sovereign.

Everyone remained silent, highly curious, watching the King's face for the slightest clue. Only toward the end of the letter did it seem that George raised the corners of his lips slightly in a satisfied smirk.

"You can report that this information is most welcome to me. If you will have the patience to wait until tomorrow, I would be happy to deliver a letter of reply. James, if you don't mind, I would like you to read it as well."

The crown prince didn't let himself be begged and took up reading as the ambassador spoke to Alexander and Thomas: "Your Highnesses, please accept this gift from Aurangzēb, Grand Mogul of the Mughal Empire", he pointed to the finely decorated box in front of him, "The Sovereign apologizes for the delay, but it was necessary to allow you to adapt to your climate."

"Adapt?" asked Alexander, beginning to feel unsettled, "Can we see what it is?"

"Of course" replied the ambassador promptly, hurrying to remove the latches.

Peggy sharpened her gaze, as did the others, until she saw something moving towards the light outside the box, something tiny and fluffy.

"Is it a... cat?" she asked, watching Thomas lower himself to the ground to pick up the little critter and Alexander step back.

"A tiger cub, Milady. Keep a hand on the scruff of its neck, Your Highness, here" helped the ambassador.

At this point Peggy stepped as close as she could to look at the cub, just as fascinated as Thomas, who was holding the little tiger on his legs, stroking it happily.

"It's so small! Alexander, look!"

"No, I'm fine where I am" his husband hastily replied, "Put him down, it might attack."

"Oh, how scary, look how dangerous it is, it looks so bloodthirsty" Thomas teased him, "Come on, get over here."

"I'm not going anywhere near that thing. Very gracious gift, really, but we can't accept it, I'm sorry. It just doesn't seem like the right place for it and wouldn't survive the winter" Alexander quickly objected.

"My Sovereign has already taken care of that, Your Highness" the ambassador interjected, "It's a female only two months old, promptly separated from its mother and boarded so it wouldn't get used to the warmth of my land. Moreover, I am compelled to insist that you accept, she-it would not have long life if returned to India."

"Why not?" Peggy, Thomas and Alexander asked at the same time.

"King George uses tigers for their fur or for the pleasure of hunting them on his own lands. This was the only one of the litter we’ve been able to hide" explained the ambassador, re-closing the box.

"Oh" Thomas merely commented before turning to the little tiger in a low voice, "Tu as vécu toute sorte de chose, nous savons tous les deux ce qu'il voulait nous faire…”

"And we accept the gift with pleasure" stated James proudly, "As well as the entire contents of the letter! It's going to be a lot of fun having this little fella around" he continued, lowering himself next to Peggy and Thomas to scratch the cub's ear.

Assured that she would stay with them, Thomas stood up with the tiger in his arms to chase after Alexander: "Come on, try petting her, look how quiet she is!"

"No! Keep it away from me. I'm not kidding, Thomas!"

Peggy giggled at the sight of the prince clearly intimidated by the animal, but gasped immediately afterwards when James whispered in her ear: "Would you be so kind as to have a word in private with me?"

Peggy rose without giving any affirmative answer, slipping one of the corners of the room followed by the prince, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"You may have heard that Thomas and Alexander are expecting a child", Peggy nodded silently, increasing the older's discomfort, "If it were to be a boy, would you accept my proposal?"

"James-" began Peggy patiently only to be interrupted by the prince.

"I know I'm insistent, and you've reiterated your position several times, but... I can't go on like this, Peggy", the young woman tried again to speak, but James was too determined and afraid, "No, please listen. You're not one of many, I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I just wish I had a chance to show you that-we would-"

"Princes don't marry ladies-in-waiting, James, I'm sorry" Peggy reiterated, skilfully hiding her own internal dissension, "If you'll excuse me, I'll go back to my room."

James watched her cross the room to disappear into the hallway. She was perfect, even as she ran from him, she couldn't have been more wonderful. That was the end of whatever had been there, wasn't it? Even if it had only been hypothetical and hinted at.

Turning his head towards the rest of the family, he felt time pause, the sight of Alexander forced by Thomas to caress the little fur ball, with such different emotions but both wrapped in mutual appreciation and esteem, moved something inside him. It wasn't right, they hadn't chosen each other but they seemed to have found each other; he and Peggy had chosen each other, they had found each other, why couldn't they be together?

It was with this thought that he found himself in the hallway chasing, almost running, the evasive girl. Forgetting every single proper attitude, he called her out loud and, once he reached her, grabbed her arm, turning her towards him.

"I'll leave you alone, just tell me this: if we weren't who we are, if we were two ordinary people, would you want me?"

At the sight of the prince's desperate eyes, Peggy had to stop the lump in her throat from coming out: "Of course I want you."

"Then accept" he begged for the last time, knowing that both of their eyes were brighter than when they had first started talking, "Please, Margarita."

She tried to hang on to the last bit of her resolve, of her conviction, but the more she looked at him, the more she lost all certainty, and the closer she ended up getting.

"James, I-"

She couldn't have said what made her put her hand on the nape of James' neck, or pull him towards her, or let her first kiss be taken away in the middle of an ordinary hallway by one of the most important future rulers of the century. The fact was that she now found herself attached to her prince's sweet and experienced lips, fully aware of the lone tear that ran down James' eye to her cheek.

"I accept" she whispered passionately, pulling away from his lips.

James remained incredulous and hopeful, stammering: "You accept? Do you really accept?", when Peggy nodded, smiling, he felt his own heart burst with the force of a thousand firecrackers and he held her close to his chest, feeling their hearts beating side by side.

"You could have waited a few more days. It would have been a lovely birthday gift! And don't call me Margarita.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite Thomas' faith, I prefer to think of everything as happening on the metaphysical plane. We will have time to interact with other religions.  
> In this chapter, we're on September 14, Peggy turns eighteen on the 19th, don't be a prude and accept her romance with James (God, I haven't written het couples since 2014-15).  
> About the tiger: nothing, I liked the idea and everyone told me not to do it, so I did it. The letter contained India's approval and support for America, and information about a spionistic collaboration (Yes, I know that British colonialism in India does not take place in the early 18th century, but shh))


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Angelica and Eliza! And catch a glimpse of Madison.

Thomas absent-mindedly moved bits of food from one side of the plate to the other with his fork, clearly with no intention of eating them, making the light clinking his only connection to the present, excluding himself from the King's complaints. It had been a rather difficult period, if you want to be optimistic: Alexander had been claimed by the war to defend the northern border and soon James left to help his brother; Charles had left the palace in the utmost secrecy, only hinting at an emergency that required his presence; Peggy had returned home to enjoy the Christmas celebrations with her family; George was always busy among a thousand duties and didn't exactly have time to spend with the Frenchman, which wasn't exactly bad for the youngest. He felt he was always under observation ever since he announced he was expecting a baby; George never missed an opportunity to remind him how lucky they were, how careful he had to be, how he was too skinny to properly support a child, how stubborn he was about not agreeing to be seen by a doctor. It couldn't have been at all easy to take care of a war and your family at the same time, Thomas could understand that, but he just couldn't get used to the sovereign's new behavior.

"A letter has arrived for you" informed the elder out of nowhere, "From Alexander."

This immediately revived the prince, he hadn't had any news from his husband in almost two months, he had stopped answering his letters but not his uncle's, causing him many tormented thoughts. Perhaps he had angered him in some way, had he written something wrong? Was he bothered by his behavior as well?

"I've had it brought to your rooms, we can discuss it together over a good tea in my study this afternoon; it's been a long time since you and I had a quiet talk."

Thomas hoped for such an opportunity to assuage his doubts about his relationship with the monarch, at least he would have something to do that afternoon instead of wallowing in boredom and loneliness.

"I would really like to" the Frenchman told him smilingly, ready to get up from the table, "If there is nothing else, I am quite impatient to read the letter."

"Go ahead, I had to get back to work anyway", he cast a glance at the Frenchman's plate, "Don't you want to finish it?"

And here the weight of judgment returned.

'It's just your impression, he just asked a question. Stop being so insecure and victimized.'

"My stomach's clenched; anyway, I'm full, I really am."

\---

_My Dearest Thomas,_

_forgive my poor calligraphy and this tardiness of mine; there is no excuse for my failure to reply to your caring and thoughtful letters, except my own desire not to distress either you or our beloved child. The situation here on the border is stable, the troops are well trained and know how to defend themselves. The emergency that took me away from our home was brilliantly extinguished weeks ago, but I thought it wise to remain close to our men in case the enemy again tried to break into the camp._

_I know that you have been suffering from some ailments over the past week, and although James himself has reassured me of the normalcy of the situation, I beg you to listen to what are the concerns of the entire family and leave yourself in Dr. Hosack's care._

_I fully realize that this letter will only cause you irritation and annoyance, I am aware that you were hoping for a different, probably more personal, content. I have not been able to keep many of the promises I made: I have not taken you to the beach, we have not walked together in the woods, our rooftop-adventure seems more and more distant in my memory, and yet you have never pressed me or made a comment about it; however, I have enough audacity to ask you to wait just a little longer._

_In the hopes that Aisha has not permanently taken my place in your bed,_

_Always yours, Alexander_

Thomas pressed his lower lip tightly between his teeth until he tasted his own blood. The frustration was consuming him, it was such an anonymous letter, devoid of any affection shown in the previous ones, and there was not even the slightest hint of a possible comeback. He missed Alexander, he missed his touchiness, his arrogance, his sweetness, his acid comments against Aisha, his annoying snoring and sleep talking.

Maybe Alexander was getting tired of him, now that he was going to give him a child, they had no more obligations to each other, unless a girl was born. He wanted a girl, he had even admitted it to his husband, but what if it drove them apart? Was Alexander going to hold it against him? If they were already losing their communication now how could they commit to having a boy later?

Against all directions and orders he placed a hand on his belly searching for contact with his baby. He wandered to the farthest part of his mind, clinging to the memory of when he first felt the connection with the child, but nothing.

Silence. Just silence. The same silence that had been haunting him for almost three months now. Always just the same lonely silence.

And to think that in France he would have done anything for a few moments alone and without noise; the main difference was that Thomas liked being alone, not feeling lonely. Big difference.

Removing his hand from his own belly, he stowed his husband's letter in the drawer of the petineuse along with the others. Sure, it clashed quite a bit among them, was like a smudge of denim blue on a painting of warm sunset, but it was still written by Alexander and, as such, it belonged there.

An insistent meow drew the prince's attention back to his own bed, where a rather full-grown tiger cub was lying comfortably on Alexander's side.

"Que veux-tu?” he asked sinking into the mattress next to the feline, "You want cuddles? Is that your payment for not letting me sleep alone?", he definitely looked like a fool talking to an animal, but he barely cared, "Alexander doesn't like you sleeping with me, are you doing it to him on purpose?" he asked again, petting the tiger from its ears to its belly. He decided to interpret the purr as a yes.

"Do you remember your first night here, Aisha?"

***

_"You really are heartless" Thomas judged again, "Letting her sleep alone, in the dark, in the cold, in a poorly improvised enclosure."_

_Alexander rolled his eyes, slipping on his nightgown: "You've told me twice already, and I'll tell you again, I'm sorry, but there's no other alternative. It will be fine, it's one of the most resilient animals known... and stop using 'she', it's an animal, you have to use 'it'."_

_"Then I should start using 'it' for you as well!" informed the Frenchman in return, glued to the window in hopes of seeing the little tiger._

_When the younger finally decided to join him under the blankets, Alexander could almost hear the sound of his thoughts._

_"Are you warm enough? The temperature has dropped a bit" he asked, trying to bring out the Frenchman's sweet side, who nevertheless only mumbled a sort of confirmation with his gaze fixed on the four-poster and occasionally on the window, a wrinkled pout clear on his face. Deciding not to pull too hard, the American strained on his abs to give his husband his usual kiss before falling asleep. He had to restrain himself from laughing when Thomas turned to blow out the candle on the nightstand to avoid his kiss, remaining lying on his side._

_"Good night, I guess" he said amused, the only response was another mumble that, as much as it might have resembled a 'good night', sounded more like a 'I hope you're plagued by nightmares.'_

_Alexander slept blissfully for almost four hours, then felt himself repeatedly come out of sleep and go back into it, hearing the rain on the windows. He reached out to wrap his arm around the Frenchman's chest and hold him close, and, as in their first awakening together, there was no one on the other side of the bed. Opening his eyes just enough to be sure of his husband's absence, Alexander began to mumble confusedly: "Thomas?"_

_"I can't", Alexander turned to where the voice was coming from to see Thomas quickly slip on a robe, "I'm not leaving her alone to face a thunderstorm."_

_"It's only two drops, go back to bed" he begged ready to fall back asleep, instead he found himself jumping to his feet at the sound of the door opening and quick footsteps moving away, "Thomas!" he called out to him again, continuing to be ignored as the younger walked quickly out into the hallway. Chasing him out of the apartments, he gestured for the guards not to follow; he finally managed to catch him halfway down the flight of stairs on the ground floor, grabbed him by the arm and trapped him between his own body and the wall, much to the Frenchman's dismay._

_"Goddammit, will you stop?! Where the hell do you think you're going?!! I'm not going to let you go out in the rain to get that furry thing, you're expecting our son, you can't get sick over this nonsense!", he had been way too harsh, he could tell before even registering the discombobulated expression on his husband's face, who still managed to maintain some semblance of determination._

_Defeated, he immediately loosened the grip on his arm and spoke in a much softer voice: "Wait in your room, I'll be back as soon as I can", then continued down the stairs towards the gardens._

_Thomas watched him disappear from his sight into the darkness of the palace before reluctantly turning back. The waiting seemed to be one of the longest and most exhausting that Thomas could remember ever experiencing, he had to force himself to remain seated several times and was growing more impatient after each one, so eventually he lit almost every candle he could find to keep himself from sitting on his hands, restless at the sight of lightning and the sound of thunder._

_'Two drops, eh?" he mentally scoffed at his husband's earlier statement, "Weather like this is seen around November in France, summer's just over, dear God.'_

_The thunderstorm immediately lost Thomas' attention when the living room doors were heavily opened by an exhausted Alexander, much drier than the Frenchman had expected, who was roughly holding by the scruff of the neck the completely wet and whining feline._

_"Here" he said resting it with very little grace on the floor, "Now we can go back to bed."_

_"Thank you" the younger murmured embarrassedly and gratefully, "You're all wet, poor thing..." he continued, kneeling down beside the cub._

_"No, I'm dry, don't worry; I sent a guard to take it, I just-" the American interrupted himself as soon as he realized his husband wasn't talking to him._

_"You're just like that thing: ungrateful and thankless. I tried to hold it in my arms and in return it wet my nightgown and hissed at me. Indeed", he took off the garment in question ignoring the cold (baffling the younger quite a bit given the absence of underwear) and tossed it in the animal's proximity, "It can dry itself off with that and sleep on it, I'll get a new one."_

_Thomas immediately took to rubbing the fabric over the tiger's fur, drying and warming it as much as he could, chuckling at its offended, attention-seeking meows. When he was quite satisfied with the result, he picked it up and went back to the bedroom, where in the meantime Alexander had holed up under the blankets muttering a few complaints._

_Carefully placing the feline on his own pillow, he settled comfortably into the warmth and comfort of the bed, then moved the cub under the sheets next to his chest, "You'll finally be warm here."_

_Alexander turned as if expecting to find the physical embodiment of every known evil, horrified at the sight of the 'ungrateful and thankless' beast._

_"No, no way. At most I'll give it the couch."_

_"Come on, Alexander, after you almost left her out there alone you owe her that much!" the Frenchman pointed out, "Besides, she's snuggled up by now, she won't bother at all."_

_"I won't sleep in the same bed with an animal!"_

_At this point Thomas huffed in exasperation: "Fine, then she stays here and you can sleep on the couch", then he hugged the cub and closed his eyes to make it clear that the discussion ended there for him._

_Alexander stared at his husband for a few more moments before giving in: "Fine, but only for tonight! And because I decided to, not because you said so."_

_"Mh-mh, sure, now go to sleep."_

_Needless to say, it wasn't just for that night at all._

_***_

"Do you remember how upset he got when he woke up with your tail practically under his nose?" he asked laughing at the memory, "You're not entirely innocent though, you seemed to do it to him on purpose."

Resting his hand on his belly again, he sighed heavily, wondering if he would ever get to wake up next to Alexander again. It just wasn't fair! He was the one being ignored and left alone; if Alexander was really getting tired of him, why would he be pining for him?

"You know what, Aisha? If he wants a permanent place in bed, he can look for it in his apartments; you deserve a lot of him right now. And you" he said turning to his own child, "Maybe you're mad at me too, but I promise I'll be the best father in the world and we'll have lots of happy memories together, even if it has to be just you and me."

\---

The prince only needed to give the door two gentle taps before George respectfully ushered him into the room. The King's study was very different from Alexander's, first of all there was no bed, but an area with small tables and sofas, and the room was much larger and authoritative in some ways; and it was also much busier. Around the desk were three men and a boy who must have been definitely younger than Alexander but older than Thomas, who showed a shy smile to the Frenchman and quickly bowed his head in respect.

"Come on in, Dear. We're almost done" communicated the King arranging the last papers, "You already know Count Schuyler and Baron Adams, they are the Viceroy of Virginia, James Madison, and his son, also named James."

Thomas smiled cordially at the two: "Honored to make your acquaintance, Messieurs."

After a few minutes the four left the room and George was finally able to give his full attention to the young Frenchman: "Forgive the inconvenience, the sooner I get rid of unnecessary things the better. Please sit down."

"That's fine" Thomas assured as he took a seat at the small table, "Nothing too annoying I hope."

"Nothing that can't be resolved with a little well-experienced diplomacy. Tea will be brought in a moment, feel free to take a pastry", Thomas accepted the small treat more to please the sovereign than out of any real desire to enjoy it.

"How have you been feeling lately?"

Thomas carefully calibrated each word before answering: "Pretty good, just a little drowsiness and morning sickness."

"And head and back pain, I have noticed", of course he had, "And legs and abdomen."

"As a matter of fact, yes" Thomas admitted knowing it was pointless to deny, "But I've been assured this is normal, it means the baby is doing well and growing normally."

"We should let the doctor decide that" George murmured with not well concealed disapproval, "And how do you feel on a personal level instead? A little lonely, I'm afraid."

"Uh, well-", fortunately he was interrupted by the maid bringing the tea, using the precious seconds to think about how to expose his thoughts. He was finally able to set down his almost-intact pastry on the saucer and take to stirring his own tea with some milk.

"I guess I feel exactly the same way you do, it's not like we can do much to avoid the lonely moments."

"Unfortunately, you're right, it's weird for me too not having all the family around" agreed the elder before savoring his own tea, "Speaking of family, how's it going with Alexander?"

Thomas felt the heat rise in the occipital part of his head and quickly creep all around, he wondered if it was due to the fact that he didn't have the same intimacy with the ruler as he did with Charles or maybe it was his own defence mechanism and would have happened with anyone.

"He hasn't written me much lately, I suppose he is very busy" or at least that was what he thought before he read the last letter, "He only wrote that things are going well and to forgive his suddenly poor handwriting."

George must have been considerably more informed than the Frenchman, for he treated the subject as a fact of which everyone was aware: "Ah, yes! I had difficulty reading some of the letters. It's amazing how he continued to write despite the wound."

Thomas felt as if time slowed to the speed of a garden slug; he didn't even know what to think, let alone what to say. What wound? Alexander had been hurt and no one had said anything to him, how was he? Would he recover or would he forever have gaps?

"I couldn't tell if he's incredibly strong or stupidly foolish, you-", George paused to observe the blank expression on the Frenchman's face, "You didn't know that, did you?"

Thomas felt pain in every part of his chest, the knowledge and shame of not knowing something so important sneakily made its way down his throat and eyes to the prince, who cleverly hid them behind the tea cup before they could openly show themselves to the sovereign, shaking his head before pretending to drink.

"Do we know when everyone will be back?" he then asked, trying to change the subject.

"Unfortunately, not" the elder replied sincerely apologetic, "I doubt we'll see Alexander and James before Christmas, and the only one who knows when Charles will sort out his affairs is he himself", that wasn't 'waiting a little longer', that was waiting in vain for something that wouldn't come.

"I miss them too, Thomas" the King admitted softly, suddenly feeling guilty about the whole situation, "But, you could be less lonely with a little effort! James Madison, Junior of course, will stay here at the palace for some time to begin to familiarize with the surroundings and find his eventual way into politics, he might be pleasant company", Thomas wasn't exactly known for his ability to start new friendships, but he might as well try, it was better than hiding from anyone's sight.

"Why don't we spend every meal together from now on? It's become so rare, it will be beneficial to both of us."

It was immediately clear that there was nothing to discuss, the elder had already decided for both of them, but Thomas forced himself to rejoice: "I find that an excellent idea, Your Majesty."

"Thomas" George chided him, "You've been here six months now, what's with these formalities? I've told you several times you can call me George, loosen up a bit!" he laughed.

Thomas chuckled back, slightly nervous, not knowing how else to react to the King's next words: "Maybe someday you'll be comfortable enough to call me 'uncle' too."

\---

Things had apparently gotten better since their conversation, sometimes Thomas would find himself reading in the King's study while the latter worked on his papers. George still made questions about his weight and the baby, but it was more bearable than before, especially since he supervised him at every meal.

Christmas was fairly flat compared to the ones Thomas was used to, but with a war going on and only one other person to be with, he didn't dare complain. To his great joy, Peggy came back at the beginning of the new year and it was rumored that Charles would be back soon; they ended up having just a few words with young Madison, he was the most reserved person Thomas had met since he left France, but maybe that was the reason why he was so sympathetic to him.

There were no more letters from Alexander, which left him with new questions and new fears; instead, he began receiving letters from James who, while never going into detail, reassured him of his brother's condition and soon sent Thomas the letters to deliver to Peggy, trying to keep their relationship relatively low profile.

"So, are you going to do it?" asked Peggy lying on the Frenchman's bed cuddling Aisha and, in that moment, he really realized how much he had missed his friend.

"No, I don't think so" replied the prince simply, "Not if I can help it. It's not that I don't care, but it's really humiliating and painful, and Hosack is so slimy, I don't understand why he's the royal private doctor. I wish I had more certainty about this pregnancy too, but God, I still feel like I have his hands all over me..." he tried to suppress a shudder as he leaned over to pet his beloved, no longer so small, tiger.

"Let's talk about something else, have you told your family about James? You're still alive, so Angelica didn't slaughter you like you feared. Her name is Angelica, right?"

Peggy felt every millimeter of her face blush up to her ears. They'd never explicitly talked about it with Thomas, there had only been a little banter here and there, but it would have been foolish to think he didn't know exactly what was going on, maybe he even knew better than she did.

"First of all, I don't know what you're talking about" she persisted, scratching too hard behind the tiger's ear, who turned away offended to seek new cuddles from Thomas, "Secondly, no, I panicked.... Even my father doesn't know anything yet, Angelica could literally ban me from seeing James again and make me leave the palace."

"Then I will demand that you remain in my service, assuming you want to" Thomas stated, "I don't understand you though, what are you waiting for? I certainly don't expect you two to marry upon his return, but at least acknowledge the mutual interest. What would you do if James was offered a political marriage?"

Peggy had to admit that she thought about this often and continued to fear that no one would approve of their union (well, except Thomas of course, and maybe Alexander, but she wasn't sure).

"We... just want to have our time. Neither of us wants to get married in the middle of a war, and James is trying to figure out how many obstacles this union will find. Selfishly speaking, the ideal would be for you and Alexander to have a boy, at least the heir issue would be settled. Goodness, I feel horrible for saying that."

"You're not horrible, you're just thinking about how to be happy, I could never blame you for that" the prince reassured her, "And anyway, you're not the only one hoping for this child to be a male, I think that's the wish of the whole kingdom, just to make me feel relaxed and without pressure. Mh, that was supposed to be a joke, but I realize it didn't sound like one at all."

"Which brings us back to the beginning of the conversation: how are you going to proceed with the doctor?"

Thomas let out a sigh so heavy that even Aisha raised its head to look at him: "What do you expect me to do? My only hope would be to ask Charles to talk to George, but I already know that won't accomplish anything."

Peggy remained particularly meditative and silent for a while, pondering the risk of the offer she had thought of. Thomas had never given her reason to doubt his trust, he had kept every secret and was far more open than almost any other noble in the palace; perhaps he would accept, after all he deserved an out.

"What if it's not Hosack visiting you?"

"It would be a step forward, but I doubt the King would approve" Thomas admitted wearily, "I hate this, I hate how normal this invasiveness is considered."

"Not everyone considers it normal, I know experts who find the current medicine cruel and without benefit", now it was too late to back down, "If I were to introduce them to you, would you swear me to secrecy? I fear they will not be well liked here at court."

Thomas was immediately curious, not only at his friend's ambiguity but more so at the little hope she was introducing him to: "Well, I don't think you'd tell me about them if you didn't trust these people, let's do it! So, who are they? Protestants? Anti-monarchists? I'll take anything but pro-British."

"No, they're..." Peggy tried to find a way to expound on the matter without getting everyone burned at the stake, "Remember when I told you about my family's vanguard?"

\---

Three days later, Thomas waited nervously in his friend's bedroom. Countess Schuyler and her two older daughters had arrived at the palace the night before and, predictably, Peggy spent the entire morning with them. They had decided in the previous days that Peggy would introduce him to the 'doctors' in her apartments so as not to create suspicion, and now he could no longer bear the wait. He was definitely afraid of this 'experimental visit', but it was his last chance to avoid Hosack, so he did his best not to give it away.

He would still have to explain the situation to someone, immediately opting for Charles, who he knew was already on his side; if only Alexander was there with him. He didn't know how to feel about his husband anymore, on one hand he was worried and eager to have him by his side, on the other he hated how easily he was ignored and pushed aside, and yes, part of him was convinced it was somehow his fault.

Thomas quickly settled down when he heard loud, thunderous voices outside the door, letting him guess that Peggy and her 'doctors' must have arrived.

"He's in my room, hurry up" he heard her say before opening the door wide enough for only her to enter, "Hi, Thomas. Uhm... could you promise me one last time that you won't tell anyone without our permission?"

"I promise as many times as you want, might I become unable to play any instrument if I break my promise" the Frenchman swore.

Peggy looked behind her hesitantly, then let two more women with small purses enter the room: "So, these are my sisters, Angelica and Elizabeth, and from this moment I leave the leadership to them."

Thomas respectfully rose from his chair to face the two, pleasantly surprised when the older one, the one who must have been Angelica, shook his hand instead of bowing like her sister: "Honored, Your Highness. May I begin by asking you to tell me a little about your childbearing?"

It was a very smart move, Thomas always got quiet when talking about the baby and so the two women had a quick idea of how to proceed. Peggy remained silent the whole time, simply closing the door and picking up her sisters' purses to note the contents.

"Should I lie on the bed?" he asked hesitantly.

"There's no need for now" stated Elizabeth confidently, "Peggy, close the curtains please."

Plunged into instant darkness, Thomas felt his own discomfort return to the girl's new request: "You should remove your waistcoat, Your Highness. You may keep your shirt if you wish, but you must carry it outside your trousers."

"Eliza, can you take care of the perfume?" asked Angelica motioning Thomas to the chair, then she pulled another chair closer and sat on it, "Close your eyes and maintain long deep breaths, relax" she murmured softly. She gently placed her index finger in the center of the prince's forehead and Thomas immediately felt as if a huge weight had just dissolved, letting both his head and shoulders rest, "That's good, keep breathing."

He let the new lavender scent erase even the last worries in his mind as Angelica continued to speak: "Bring a hand under your shirt, let it touch the skin of your stomach; do you feel how they are part of the same thing, how they seek contact too?", Thomas nodded briefly, too inebriated by the feeling, "Now, think of your child, your future together, what you would like to say to him, and seek contact with him."

Thomas concentrated very hard, thought about his first and only contact, the secrets he had whispered to his child on lonely nights, imagined brushing their hair and comforting them when they cried, taking them for long walks with Alexander, and all sorts of other episodes.

And then he felt it, that long-sought and longed-for contact. As sudden as a leaf on his face on a windy day, as intense and strong as a heartbeat.

He felt a tissue on his cheek before he heard Elizabeth's voice: "You may open your eyes, Your Highness. It's a normal reaction", to be honest he didn't even realize he had started crying, but he wasn't ashamed at all, he had just felt his child!

"I don't know what-, it was-", after a long time he laughed light-heartedly again, "Thank you heartily, Angelica... And you too, Elizabeth!"

"Eliza is good, Your Highness" the girl replied gently.

Peggy felt free to speak again and did so as best she knew how: "Now he's going to insist for you both to call him Thomas, you know that, right?"

"Absolutely!" assented Thomas, making the two women smile.

Angelica rose from her chair to grab her purse: "If it's to your liking, we'll definitely do it. Peggy mentioned some physical pain, would you like us to check it out?"

That was the part that scared Thomas the most, but he didn't see why not to give them some trust after what had just happened: "Can I put my waistcoat back on?" when Angelica nodded, he continued awkwardly, "Do you need to inspect between my legs?"

Both of the older sisters became more serious: "We don't believe in those barbaric and brutal practices" Eliza explained, "We'll undress you only if strictly necessary", that was a relief for Thomas.

Heartened by the progress of things, the prince allowed himself to be accompanied and lay down on the bed; Eliza felt various points on his hips and chest, then moved on to his spine. As the woman checked his back, Thomas shifted his attention to Angelica, who was busy tightening the laces of a small pouch.

"I can understand why you made me swear not to tell anyone" he said, turning to Peggy, "Accusations of witchcraft would be immediate."

"In this world everything that is not understood is passed off as witchcraft" commented Angelica, "Or at least what we women do."

At this point the Frenchman was curious: "Where did you learn these things? And how come I've never heard of them before?"

"It happened by accident" Eliza interjected, "Our mother's sixth pregnancy was quite complicated and we found ourselves several times helping her out as best we could."

"They turned out to be fortuitous attempts and after a while we discovered that in some parts of the Orient there was a similar medicine, so we rolled up our sleeves and studied" Angelica concluded.

Thomas was fascinated by the three sisters, they seemed to have the strength to break the trunk of a tree in half without even getting fatigued. When Eliza finished, Angelica handed him the bag she had been working on, suggesting he wet it and apply it on the sore areas, and the lavender perfume they had used just before. The prince stood staring at the two items as the three of them tidied up the room, leaving no trace of what had taken place.

"I won't say anything" he repeated again, "But would you agree to be my private doctors?"

The two younger sisters looked at Angelica, who smiled proudly as she struggled to maintain a certain demeanor: "We can discuss the details in your chambers, Thomas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has not seen Alexander since late October, a total of 3 months without him and almost 2 months without hearing from him.  
> Aisha means 'living, prosperous' in Arabic and it was suggested to Thomas by the ambassador.  
> Thomas has a turbulent relationship with food, but generally knows how to manage it, he never eats much, especially when he's stressed, so the more Washington stresses him out, the less he eats.  
> What Angelica and Eliza do is similar to modern aromatherapy, along with disciplines like shiatsu or meditation.  
> Angelica also made sure to include women in sequel!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: violence, non-consensual situation, some blood, vomiting, kind of force-feeding, emotional and mental abuse.  
> Unfortunately almost the entire chapter is like this, you can skip the physical violence from "The shame was too much" to "Thomas kept his eyes closed."

The final result of the letter for Alexander's birthday left Thomas pleasantly satisfied: simple and elegant, without any kind of plea or complaint, little less anonymous than the one received in December from the American; and whatever Peggy said about it, it was not because of a grudge against him, but to remind him that he did not need Alexander to love him.

'All right' admitted the French prince to himself, 'perhaps it is also because of a little resentment against him.'

But, then again, what was he supposed to write to him? That he could take the time to inform him of the wound, or that he had for the first time felt their child thanks to some ladies who were now his private and secret doctors?

Speaking of that, Peggy was much more cautious since Angelica and Eliza had agreed to stay at the palace: she was obviously happy to have them by her side, but they could get a little stuffy and she was still unsure of talking about James, which is why she asked Thomas to test the waters for her. Eliza didn't seem reluctant to the idea, but she feared what life in the palace would be like; the real problem was Angelica. He had convinced her to have tea alone under the guise of clearing up some doubts about the child, and she had traced all the problems to the stressful life of the palace.

_"Think about it: would you be so distressed if the baby wasn't Alexander's heir? No. Would you be if, instead of being a prince, you were the husband of a very common guard? No"_ she had told him, and when Thomas had dared to ask her if she would see well any of her family living at the palace, she looked at him as if he had just threatened her, before replying: _"I could never hate any of them that much."_

Thomas himself thought she was a bit of an exaggeration, but he could understand her, and anyway, he was sure she would accept Peggy's relationship, even if it wasn't what she had hoped for.

In any case, that letter wasn't going to deliver itself, and he needed to send it right away if he wanted it to get to camp in time for Alexander's birthday. Hence, he also took the letters he had written for his cousins and sisters and headed into George's study, ready to have their now typical tea together.

Against all his expectations, Thomas felt incredibly calm. Angelica and Eliza had been checking on him for all four days following their first meeting, many battles were turning in the Franco-American's favour and, since he was now making sure Thomas actually ate, George no longer seemed so ruthless towards him.

That afternoon Thomas was more absent than usual, too distracted by the snow that was accumulating elegantly on the outside edges of the windows or on the bushes that had succeeded in not losing their leaves. Obviously, it wasn't the first time he had seen snow, but in France it was rare for it to last more than two days and was more like half-melted. In America, on the other hand, it had hardly stopped snowing since the 20th of December and it wasn't going to end anytime soon.

He would have really loved to go out for a walk on the snowy paths, maybe join the Schuyler sisters, or play with Aisha, who seemed to appreciate the white flakes that sneaked through her thick fur. Perhaps he could have done it next year, George had forbidden him to leave the building or keep the windows open, asserting that the cold could cause problems for the child, and soon 'don't open the windows' turned into 'you'd better not go near it.'

"What are you thinking about so concentrated?" asked George as he stirred sugar into his own tea.

George's voice no longer caught him too off guard, but it was still as impetuous as a stone on thin ice.

"Nothing important" he minimized, "The soldiers will have a hard time with all this snow."

"Don't worry, Dear, they are well trained and used to the unfavourable weather. Besides, I'm sure your letter will be more than enough to warm Alexander up" George chuckled at the slight blush on the prince's face, "Charles is coming back the day after tomorrow, you know?"

Enthusiasm welled up in the Frenchman's chest, who was overly excited and a little ashamed at the thought of seeing again the man who had posed himself as a paternal figure, and he let his enthusiasm and questions run wild: "That's absolutely wonderful, I'm so glad! Did he say anything about why he was so far away? Tell me the truth, he's not sick, is he?" he asked feeling his own fervour making its way to the center of his stomach.

"Calm down" replied the King patiently, "He's perfectly well, but I'm afraid it's a private matter on which it's better not to utter a word, we wouldn't want it to become a little theatre of amusement."

Thomas' ardour clashed again with George's cold discipline, and, just as in a kind of fight, he had the impression that something struck him from within. The prince told himself that it was just one of the child's 'casual' contacts, it would be passing by shortly.

"Is this something the British government would take advantage of?" he asked ignoring the growing annoyance.

George's poise didn't slip an inch when, deflecting the question, he replied: "Fortunately, we will never be given a way to find out. Discretion, you must have learned by now, is one of the greatest qualities of this family, or at least of my generation. My advice is to-, Dear, are you all right?"

Interested as he was, Thomas paid no attention to the sovereign's words; instead, he put down his cup, sensing the tremor of his own hand, and concentrated on the twinges, as Eliza had suggested. It seemed to him that the pain returned to be only a discomfort for a second indeed, but then it came back stronger than before and he had to force himself to take long and continuous breaths. To make matters worse, while he felt he was losing his sense of taste, his sense of smell abruptly intensified, allowing his lungs to be invaded by the strong pekoe fragrance that George had poured on the carpet when he stood up abruptly, dropping his own teacup.

‘Good thing it didn't shatter, it's such an elegant piece of porcelain’ Thomas found himself thinking in search of a second of respite, ending up berating himself, 'Focus! You're not going to vomit in the King's study.'

George was immediately at his side, making him lean against the chair back: "Lean your head back and close your eyes, like this."

The King's fingers applied pressure to the bridge of the younger's nose firmly, as if he were blocking the bleeding of a weak capillary.

After a few minutes like that, the bulk of the pain finally subsided, leaving small and brief cramps as a threat of possible return for the prince. Thomas opened his eyes, feeling ready to resume tea with the elder and reassure him: "My apologies, I'm fine... I'm afraid this little one is already having the same turbulent sleep as Alexander!"

George removed his fingers from the Frenchman's face and placed his hand on his shoulder instead: "Well, he's no doubt mistaken you for a military training dummy!"

After allowing a few moments of silence to pass from their small laughs, the King proposed interrupting their meeting: "I would prefer to know you in your room, possibly in bed, maybe get some sleep. I will give orders to have dinner brought to your room."

"There's no ne-"

"Please" the elder cut him off, "I insist. Can you promise your King that you will stay in bed and rest?"

The way he said it had a strange effect on Thomas. George was his King by now, but hearing him say it was really strange; perhaps it was a way of hinting that it wasn't just George who cared about Thomas, but also the sovereign.

This caused Thomas to be unable to do anything but smile and comply with the elder's considerate request: "Fine, George, I promise."

George smiled in turn, leaning down to place a light kiss on the prince's forehead, which pleasantly surprised the latter.

"Good boy."

Leaving the room, Thomas actually felt more at home than he had in months, he could almost have mistaken George's kindness for old Uncle Louis'. Plus, Charles would be back in just two days! The family Thomas had hoped for all along was coming back, perhaps it had never left and he was the one having a bad time. Among other things, March was getting closer, he would only have to wait a few more months and then he could finally hold his baby, and maybe Alexander would appreciate him again.

'One thing at a time: first you call the Schuyler sisters to examine you, then you can fantasize all the time you want.'

\---

Meticulous and careful as usual, the two older sisters had quickly finished each assessment while Peggy watched quietly with Aisha.

"The important thing is that you didn't bleed, that would have been a bad sign" Angelica explained, "These are just false contractions, caused either by sudden movements of the child or by natural settling of your body to prepare for the last months."

"It happened to our mother a lot" Eliza added, "And the King's right, a little sleep won't hurt you, even if it's not strictly necessary."

Thomas hunkered down between the warm blankets, finding the most convenient and comfortable position: "I'll do that later. Would you stay and keep me company? I envy your freedom to go where you please and do what you please."

"Get ready" warned Peggy as she ungainly threw herself onto the right side of the bed, ignoring both of her sisters' eye-rolling, "There's a lot of gossip inside and outside the palace! Did you know that the Marquise of Waldorf, Madeleine, and her husband, Benjamin, have engaged in an affair with one of their maids? Together!"

"Don't you get hungry when you say 'Madeleine'? I haven't had any in a while now that I think about it, maybe I can request them for tomorrow's breakfast..." thought the prince aloud.

"Really, Thomas? You dwell on her name and not on the crowded relationship?" asked Peggy in a sarcastic tone.

Thomas chuckled giving the mattress two taps to get Aisha on it: "You're right, go ahead, Peggy."

They talked for a good while: laughing at Peggy's stories, listening to Eliza's tales, Angelica's rants and Thomas' past in France, before being disturbed by the slow creaking of the door.

"Ah, I said I heard some voices" George said as he looked at the four youths in front of him, "How you two have grown, you're two women now!"

The three girls hurried to stand up and greet the ruler, smiling at the affectionate statement. Angelica and Eliza frequented the palace much more often as children, and the King had always been very sweet towards them.

"I hope I haven't bothered you, I just wanted to make sure the prince was doing well" he continued before heading over to the bed to talk to the Frenchman, "How are you feeling? Did you get any sleep?"

"I'm fine, just a little cramping from time to time" reassured Thomas, "I may have gotten too carried away with the chatter to give in to drowsiness, I'm afraid."

"That's all right, you can rest later. Ladies, if you wouldn't mind taking a seat in the other room."

Angelica and Eliza obeyed immediately, Peggy on the other hand stood by the door, suddenly rigid. Aisha sensed her discomfort, pricked up the ears and the pupils thinned into a sharp vertical line.

There was a sound of heavy footsteps and when Thomas shifted his gaze from the King to the door his spontaneous smile died on his lips.

"What... Why is he here?" he asked while maintaining a forced smile that worked to glimpse all his fear.

George took to stroking his hair with his right hand while his left partially removed the blanket to the prince's belly: "I know it's Alexander's decision, but after your pains this afternoon I found it necessary for your safety that doctor Hosack examine you."

Thomas watched as Hosack made his way into the room with his assistant and entrusted him with a very unreassuring-looking bag.

"But I'm fine, I swear!" he tried to convince him feeling on the verge of despair when he saw the first items in the bag, "Please, George, please. Don't let this happen."

The King almost ignored Thomas' pleas and instead turned to the girl still in the room: "Margarita, please leave now and take Aisha with you."

Peggy didn't move, too scared for her friend, knowing all too well what would happen.It was only when Aisha let out a low, threatening growl toward the two doctors that she got the feline off the bed with difficulty, taking the opportunity to squeeze Thomas' hand. The last thing she heard as she left the room was the King saying: "It's going to be fine, doctor Hosack knows what he's doing."

Left without any more help in the room, Thomas seemed paralyzed on the spot, unable to stop babbling or even look away from the frightening tools being placed at the edge of the bed.

When the assistant approached, all of Thomas' strength seemed to return in a single second: he effectively kicked the blankets, dropping some of the instruments, and he successfully got out of bed in hopes of reaching the door. Unfortunately, George was prepared for such an eventuality and had no difficulty blocking his way and forcing him to lie back down on the bed.

"Your Highness, there is no reason for such a reaction" Hosack tried to calm him down as he began to handle a vial filled with a firm white substance, "I examined you once before, remember? I confirmed that you were expecting a child", turning to the assistant he added: "I need this in a liquid state, Gillen. Go ahead and use the alembic, it'll be faster."

Thomas tried again to avert George, aware that he was now on the brink of tears, but the eldest merely replied: "Alexander would have done this months ago if he were here."

Thomas froze again. That wasn't true, Alexander had sworn him that he would never go against his will; even if things had changed between them, he would never do that to him, or would he? It was impossible, that couldn't be the same man who had made him feel at home until just now, that wasn't the same man James and Alexander had known and deemed more than trustworthy, who they had told him to turn to in case of need, and it wasn't even the one he had danced with on his wedding night.

"It's ready" Gillen informed Hosack, handing him the vial with its now liquid contents.

The assistant's next move was to try lifting the prince's nightgown in order to have free access to the 'delicate area' of interest, but he barely managed to go beyond the middle of his calves. Thomas in fact threw himself forward with his torso and tore the fabric from his hand to cover himself again, but George was still there beside the youngest to prevent him from any kind of rebellion. With excessive force he brought him back to his original position, leaving a brutally firm hand on the Frenchman's chest.

With nothing else to stand in his way, Gillen lifted the nightshirt up to the prince's hips. Thomas immediately turned his head, unable to bear the sight of such humiliation, and let that last bit of courage disappear as well, clinging pleadingly to the hand on his chest.

George watched impassively as the liquid fat was poured over a forceps smaller in size than the others on the bed and a strange glass instrument the size of a finger, similar to a test tube; a broken sob was heard as Hosack spread Thomas' legs. When the glass was placed over the rectal opening, the prince couldn't help but stick out a hand to push it away, so George took both of his wrists with his free hand and pinned them to the pillow above Thomas's head, though he had to admit he didn't detect any real resistance.

He couldn't find it because the youngest had no strength to oppose anyone at that moment, he couldn't do anything; they had already seen his intimacy against his will and now they would touch him where only Alexander was authorized. The shame was too much and everywhere around him, it was drowning and devouring him like the mermaids in the tales the sailors told.

Then the glass was forced into Thomas and he barely had time to grit his teeth in pain before it was pushed deeper. Unable to suppress the involuntary reflex, the grips on his thighs became more insistent and harder as the two doctors ignored the prince's pain.

Thomas had no idea what George was looking at, didn't want to know, didn't want to face it.

"I'm not sure it will fit easily, we'd have to enlarge the entrance" Gillen observed, "The inside is already chafing."

"It will enlarge naturally with the forceps" Hosack replied, slowly removing the glass.

Thomas should have paid more attention to what the two were saying. Lost as he was in his state of pain and dissociation from reality, when the object was finally removed, he deluded himself that it was over. How wrong he was.

He knew something was wrong when the harsh sound of metal crashing into itself resounded in the silence of the room; reluctantly turning his head in Hosack's direction, the Frenchman widened his eyes more than he had ever done in his life.

"No, no, please, don't..."

"Rest assured, Your Highness, it's more frightening than painful" said Hosack as he brought the forceps dangerously close to the already violated aperture.

"No, no, no" Thomas continued whimpering. Everything was already hurting him, his lower body was screaming for mercy, his legs were over-stretched, his hands were tingling, his shoulder blades felt like they were about to come out of his back.

As the cold metal made contact with his skin, he put aside his shame to implore George again: "Please, stop them. My King, please", the branches slipped just inside the aperture and Thomas' desperation reached its limit, "I beg you, George!"

The more the iron crept into him, the more Thomas' pleas were reduced to simple invocations for the King: "George, please. George!" and when the ends of the forceps succeeded in annihilating muscular resistance, unleashing a pain he didn't think he could feel, Thomas could only appeal to the last part of the King that could stop it all, "Uncle George, help me! Please, Uncle..."

George was shocked when Thomas called him that, and he was even more shocked when the Frenchman squinted breathlessly after the tool was inserted. Unfortunately, he had to recover soon, because Thomas' thousand spasms of pain caused him to arch his back beyond recognition, compressing every muscle from the abdomen down.

"You have to hold still, Highness, this way you'll hurt yourself more than you need to" Hosack said holding the forceps firmly in the aperture, "Hold him still, Gillen."

Gillen spread the prince's legs even wider, putting undue and cruel pressure on the saphenous nerves and soon it seemed to Thomas that he had no feeling in his legs.

Then Hosack slid the branches even deeper and when he was satisfied with the length, he began to separate the handles from each other; the instrument immediately did its job, dilating the prince's inner walls by a few inches.

"Have there been instances of twinning in your families?"

"His sisters are twins" George replied, reluctant to add more, "There has been a case in my family."

Thomas only realized he had begun to tremble when the head of the bed began to creak in protest at the excessive movements. He wanted to grab at anything to give himself strength and try to ignore what was happening, but with both hands blocked by George the best he could do was brush a wrinkle in the pillow.

It was horrible, he couldn't breathe anymore, he thought he would die there. He had become comfortable with Alexander's size, he would prepare him gently, make sure he didn't suffer and enjoy it as much as he did; he wasn't ready for anything like that.

'It will be over soon, they can't dilate more than this, it's impossible.'

Unfortunately, Thomas was wrong again.

When even Hosack came to the conclusion that he couldn't go any further he left the forceps where they were and took a larger one from the edge of the bed. It was quite difficult to insert it without the fat and specially to do it in such a small space, but with Gillen's help they were able to replace the first forceps with the second.

The difference could be seen and felt immediately, the absence of the fat caused the inner walls to irritate and begin to burn, and the hasty intrusion of the iron caused several scratches. And then it became a living hell.

Hosack brutally separated the handles of the forceps without warning, which cut through every state of flesh on which it rested. The sudden, violent separation seemed to tear and rip at Thomas' bowels, and if his sobs went unnoticed before, now the entire palace got to hear his screams of excruciating pain. Continuous, endless screams, one worse than the other, that only stopped when his lungs could no longer give him enough air and his throat was shrinking on itself to heal the scratches.

He was sure he felt blood coming out and soaking him, he didn't even need to see it, but for some reason he found himself peering into the faces of the two men who were torturing him. It was as if he wasn't even there, he was all numb, his vision had begun to blur, he no longer had the strength to scream or hold back tears. Why should he have? Screaming wouldn't stop them and tears were the only comfort he would get.

He turned to look at George's face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He recognized fear, disgust, and maybe a hint of rethinking.

He called out to him one last time, without realizing it, with a croaky, pained edge to his voice: "Uncle..."

There was no point in asking him to stop it anymore, he just wanted a word of comfort, a promise that it would all be all right, he'd be content even with a lie; and George was there, just about to do it. His eyes regretful, almost repentant, a frown of shame on his face, his mouth slightly open, and the words were there: 'I'm sorry.'

Instead, he put his cold-detached expression back on, and just said: "You're just making it worse" before looking away and back between the prince's legs.

Oh.

Not exactly what Thomas needed to hear.

'I suppose he's right' he thought as he turned his head towards the windows, 'I should just be quiet and wait for it to be over.'

And he did, he remained still looking at the snow and imagining his family, the one in France, the one that wasn't destroying him. Maybe if he had thought about them hard enough, they would have sensed it.

He stayed like that for a while, it got darker outside, but it would be some more time before the candles needed to be lit. The only reason he didn't fall asleep were the flashes of pain that came whenever he tried to find some peace, so he stayed in his catatonic, imaginary state. This time he had no illusions at all that it was over, George's hand was still holding his wrists, so who knows what else was about to happen.

Thomas' legs tingled as the blood flowed freely through his veins again, and with no more hands to hold them steady, his knees gave in to pain and exhaustion, a sign that the two men were no longer interested in that area. Before he could think about which part of his body would be the next victim, a hand abruptly grabbed his jaw, forcing him to turn his head toward George, who was now flanked by the two doctors.

Hosack brought a small bottle with a reddish distilled liquid to his lips, and Thomas' instincts told him to close his mouth and clamp his lips together. Of course, this led to nothing except for Gillen painfully squeezing his joints until he forced his mouth open, and then Hosack poured the whole bottle's contents into it.

It was beyond disgusting, it was a mixture of blood, metal, and something akin to cod oil; he wasn't going to drink any of it, it would harm the baby.

When after two minutes of waiting it was evident from the renewed fire in his eyes that Thomas was determined not to swallow it, George couldn't take it anymore. Did the Frenchman think he was the only one who wanted this to end? Because he certainly wasn't enjoying himself.

"Goddammit, Thomas!" he growled through his teeth. He finally removed his hand from the young man's chest to cover both his nose and mouth, "Swallow the bloody medicine."

Thomas' eyes watered again, extinguishing the small fire he had managed to light. He couldn't swallow that stuff, why couldn't George understand it?

Normally he would have praised himself for his endurance without oxygen, but his lungs were starting to burn and his chest felt like it wanted to explode. Finally, he closed his eyes as the liquid mockingly ran through his throat and only then all the hands left his body.

Thomas kept his eyes closed even when Gillen put the tools back in place and Hosack happily told the King to talk about the developments elsewhere. Neither of them bothered to cover the Frenchman's nakedness.

George seemed to be looking forward to it. Ignoring the prince's tears, he gently rested his right hand on Thomas' hair and placed a light a kiss on the top of his head, whispering: "Good boy."

The same action that had deluded Thomas into thinking he was home earlier in the afternoon now scared him more than death itself.

He said nothing when George left the room, nor did he say anything when Peggy rushed inside with a look of pure horror, followed by her sisters. He simply stared at the snow outside the window.

"We'll need water, cloths and a strong liquor" Angelica ordered as she approached the foot of the bed.

Peggy didn't hesitate for a moment, immediately leaving the room: "I'll be as quick as I can."

"Thomas, we're going to look. We will have to touch you, all right?" asked Eliza as sweet as ever. Thomas didn't answer, he had already been seen and violated, it wouldn't make any difference.

Eliza sighed sadly and walked over to her sister, who was already examining the atrocity in front of her: "They could have at least cleaned and covered him up."

"A butcher would have been gentler" Angelica commented repulsively, moving the prince's legs slowly.

Waiting for Peggy to return with what was needed, Angelica and Eliza could only dab at the external wounds and wipe away the blood using the flaps of her nightgown, he couldn't wear it anymore anyway.

Eliza was the first to suspect the Frenchman's slight and sudden cough followed by small grimaces of disgust: "Thomas, what's wrong?", instead of answering he let out another cough, wiping his mouth immediately after.

"Listen to me: did they make you drink something?"

Angelica stopped dabbing while waiting for an answer. When Thomas nodded, she almost yelled at her sister: "You need to make him vomit, now!"

"Now, yes. I just need a...", she quickly knelt down to reach the chamber pot under the bed, "I'm on it!"

Running to Thomas, she managed to get him to stand up on his side and lean over the edge of the bed, hating herself when she had to ask him to open his mouth.It was undoubtedly uncomfortable and annoying, but Thomas didn't retreat when Eliza stuck her index and middle fingers past his uvula, stimulating the gag reflex; after two more pushes there was the first, disgustingly long wave. When they thought it was over, Thomas vomited for the second time, more like a series of coughing fits than a continuous flow.

Thomas collapsed on the bed just as Peggy re-entered the room with a bottle and pitcher in her hands and cloths thrown over one shoulder. She left everything to Angelica and took Eliza's place at her friend's side, gently brushing his hair back from his face with soft words. She made him drink some water to negate the taste of vomit and let him almost crush her hand when Angelica disinfected the internal wounds with alcohol.

"Thomas, do you remember what colour was what you drank?" the youngest girl asked, repeating Eliza's question that the prince gave no signs of hearing.

Thomas moved his lips without making a sound though, which his sore throat refused to let pass knowing it would bring more pain. The strain dampened his eyes again as a thousand needles dug through his vocal cords, but he somehow managed to croak: "Dark red" loud enough for Peggy to hear at least.

The two older sisters began to compare what it could be when Thomas remembered the detail of the oil. Fortunately, Peggy understood those subtle and disconnected nonsense words as well. At that point they both became visibly agitated and Angelica left Eliza to take care of the wounds and run to their apartments.

"Everything will be fine, you'll see" Peggy reassured him, without being entirely convinced, "No one will ever hurt you again."

It wasn't true, he wouldn't be fooled again, he wouldn't let his guard down again. He had been a fool, a fool who had deluded himself into thinking he had a voice in his life.

"Thomas, no...", Peggy wiped away his tears with her thumbs, but they were quickly replaced with new ones and soon she gave up, letting him cry while hiding his face on the other side of the bed.

He didn't want to think about anything anymore, he didn't care about anything. Not Peggy trying to comfort him, not Eliza asking him if they were hurting him, not Angelica coming back into the room, not Aisha trying to peek in the few moments the door was opened.

Was Alexander on board with this? What about Charles and James? He wasn't going to let Peggy marry his brother-in-law if he was going to put her through that same thing. Maybe it was a good thing there was no one else besides George with him, he didn't want to know what they thought of all this and of one thing he was absolutely certain: he would never tell them about it.

\---

It was Peggy who made him put on a new nightgown, hindered by the lack of cooperation of the prince, who barely moved from his initial position on the bed. He asked to be left alone, not even wanting Aisha by his side, who spent the night in the Schuylers' apartments. His dinner, now cold and still untouched on the nightstand beside his bed, was not even given a glance, disgusted at the mere thought of eating.

When he had been bedridden in the past time seemed to never pass, it was almost a curse; now it seemed a blessing. He didn't sleep a wink all night and when he tried, his 'executioners' immediately appeared in front of him, making him wake up terrified.

The dawn was beautiful, even when the gray of winter enveloped it, and it seemed to be just like him: static and out of time.

It wasn't the usual maid who entered his room to wake him up, but all three Schuyler sisters, who offered him sad little smiles. He still remained turned to the opposite side, not looking at them.

"How do you feel? Did you have any pains during the night?" asked Eliza shyly, though she already knew the answer.

"We thought to bring you a sleep aid" Angelica said showing a small vial with a yellowish liquid, "It's an extract of various calming herbs, such as valerian and linden."

She hadn't expected an answer, but not receiving one was demoralizing nonetheless, so she quickly moved on to the bitter notes: "There are these too. It's the best we can do to clear you of that sort of poison, and this lotion will make the pain in your... well, between your legs tolerable."

Thomas thought briefly of the tragic comedy of being forced to drink a mixture of pig and snake blood and fish liver extract in the hope that it would cure him of his 'bodily weaknesses'.

Peggy sat on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his hair and spoke to him trying to sound enthusiastic: "Thomas, look, we had madeleines made for you!", she moved the plate so the Frenchman could see it, "Don't you want to try them?"

The only thing that moved him was Peggy's fake happy tone, so similar to her sisters and cousins when he was sick in France.

"Thank you" he whispered, turning to look at the three, "I'm sorry, I'm not hungry."

"That's fine!" replied Peggy hopefully, "I'll leave them here for you instead of your awful dinner. I wouldn't have eaten it either."

That wasn't true, she was just trying not to give too much away about the events of the day before and the effects of Hosack's liquid.

"Do you want us to bring Aisha back?"

Thomas shook his head. He didn't want to be seen, he didn't want anyone near him, not even the Schuyler sisters, no matter how much they were trying to help and had already helped.

"I'd like to be left alone, if you don't mind."

Peggy gave him a kiss on the cheek while Angelica left the vials in the nightstand drawer, in case anyone came in. Before she left the room she told him: "I know you don't feel like it and you have every right to, but try to eat something, all right? Even just a little piece."

Well, surprisingly he did. He ignored his stomach and nose's protests when the sweet smell hit them without warning and forcefully downed the entire first madeleine.

The positive side was that he noticed that eating a small piece with intervals of about an hour didn't bother his stomach too much. The negative was that he found out after he had thrown up the treat and his gastric juices, since he had nothing else he could puke.

A maid informed him, staying outside the room at the express order of the prince, that lunch was about to be served. He told her he would be there shortly, but did not even try to get up, so he pretended to be asleep when she knocked again after half an hour.

No one disturbed him again for most of the afternoon and he couldn't be more relieved. He didn't sleep, but at least he closed his eyes in a kind of drowsiness for a couple of hours. At least until another waitress reminded him about tea with the King.

Tea with the King. No one in their right mind could have thought to continue that nonsense after what had happened; he had already baited the hook, what more did George want from him?

"You can communicate to him that I'm really sorry, but that I'm not hungry", then went back to dozing off.

\---

George entered the room as quietly as possible clutching the tray in his hands, but Thomas was still awake enough to notice him. Normally he would have found it cute how the young man almost hid under the blankets, but now he just felt a lot of guilt. It wasn't like when Alexander and James had tried to convince him to let them stay in bed when they were kids, Thomas was protecting himself from him, from danger.

"It's a little late to get out of bed and a little early to go to sleep" he tried to joke without knowing why, it was impossible for Thomas to pretend that nothing had happened, "I hear you haven't eaten anything since last night. I thought I'd keep you company for dinner."

He thought about ignoring him, staying quiet, not moving, but the fear of him calling Hosack and that assistant of his again was worse than a vulture perched at the window. He had to call upon all his years of (generally ignored) etiquette and iron royal discipline to show what was in the end nothing more than a ghost of his typical behavior.

"Thank you" he murmured without emotion, "But I'm not hungry."

"I know, it's one of the side effects of black pudding. Alexander's mother used to complain about it all the time" he replied in a slightly subdued tone before forcing the atmosphere to become falsely relaxed, "But that's precisely why you have to force yourself to eat! It's all hot stuff, so the longer it takes you to finish it, the more it loses flavour."

Thomas felt the small pieces of madeleine in his stomach come together to form a stone fist as the King set the tray down beside him to grab a chair and bring it as close to the side of the bed as possible. He was thankful that the chamber pot was still close enough to grab it when there would be a need, because there would be.

When George sat down, Thomas took a quick look at the contents of the tray: "Uhm, you don't eat dinner?"

George showed his beautiful smile, the one that had fooled Thomas for months, that expert and deceptively affectionate smile, answering: "Later, Dear. I'm only here for you and I'm not leaving until I make sure you've eaten everything."

God, he wasn't going to make it. He was going to throw up in front of there for the fourth time in not even twenty-four hours.

'The sooner I finish, the sooner he leaves, the sooner I can vomit' and repeating this mantra to himself he started eating like there was no tomorrow while George talked about something Thomas didn't even remotely perceive.

He ate almost half of the plate before the food started to rise up in his stomach, he kept it in place forcing other bites into his mouth. He dropped the fork in the plate and closed his eyes, aware that from this moment he would not be able to continue the dinner.

"Aren't you going to finish it?", Thomas immediately shook his head and the King pretended to be fine with it, "Well, maybe it was a little salty, that's all right. I hope the second will be more successful."

"I can't do it" Thomas replied, holding his breath as if that would help him calm the wave that was demanding to come out.

"Sure you can!" George tried to encourage him by reaching for a hand to pick up the abandoned fork, but stopped when Thomas drew back. The elder immediately noticed how the prince brought his hands to his chest and it certainly didn't take a man of extraordinary intellect to figure out why.

It was obvious that this 'dinner' was not bearing the desired fruit and it was equally obvious that Thomas would never look at him with the same eyes again. Well, George wasn't the kind of person who would pray to be forgiven, and he didn't feel he had anything to be forgiven for in any case. He had only done his duty and the best for his family, going against Thomas was a price he was willing to pay.

"It's just food, Thomas, it's not the end of the world" he said getting up and putting the chair back, "I expect the tray to go back to the kitchens at least three quarters empty."

"I can't" Thomas reiterated exasperatedly as the King reached the door to the room, "I'm already suffering from what I ate, I can't-"

"Oh, please" George interrupted him vexed, "You're not suffering. A soldier who is shot suffers, a starving farmer suffers, a mortally wounded animal suffers. Anyone in your condition would have allowed themselves to be examined instead of insisting on their presumption. What you are doing is playing the victim."

Thomas looked at the sovereign wordlessly. It was true that he tended to exaggerate at times, but...

"You let them violate me" he whispered incredulously before letting frustration raise his tone, "You helped them violate me! I'm not playing the victim, I am the victim!"

George was tempted to leave the room without another word, but then decided to set the record straight: "You are part of two of the most important monarchies that have ever existed, you must always be superior to anything and anyone outside of them. Maybe in France this... being yourself was fine, but here it's not enough. The Washington dynasty is not suitable for just anyone, the good and future of the family come before individual ones; we cannot accept your weakness, Thomas. Nor can Charles or James, and especially neither can I or Alexander."

He easily ignored the Frenchman's shocked and incredulous expression, preferring to open the door and look out: "Tomorrow I want to see you in my study on time for breakfast. That's an order from your King."

He finally left the room and Thomas waited until the door to his apartments closed as well before he could breathe again. He didn't even have the strength to think about everything that had happened and been said to him, it was enough of the cruellest words echoing in his head.

Victim. Being yourself. Not enough. Not suitable. Weak.

It was all true. That was why he was the one who had been offered for a political marriage, he knew. He was useless to both his natural and acquired family. A stupid prince useful only for providing heirs.

'And not even that' he seemed to hear in his head from George's voice, 'You're skeletal, how do you think you can support the child? Can you even make an effort to make it a boy?'

Thomas shook his head in hopes of making it go away.

'Are you really surprised that Alexander doesn't want you anymore?'

He plugged his ears with his hands. Why wasn't the voice leaving?

'None of them miss you, not your sisters, not your cousins. I wonder if Charles still remembers your name.'

"Arrêtez!" he shouted into the empty room, jolting so hard he dropped the tray to the floor, "Stop it..." he repeated again letting himself sink into the mattress.

He found himself stroking Alexander's pillow. There was no longer his scent but he brought it close to his chest anyway and hid his face in it, holding it tightly. Suddenly he was again the little boy scared by the monsters of the night, he was the little boy who had been told his father would never come back home, he was the kid who pretended not to be afraid of the way Prince George looked and touched him, he was the seventeen-year-old who had just been told he would have to marry a stranger.

He was Thomas and that was enough to make him burst into tears and sobs.

"Je veux aller chez moi..." he smothered the prayer in his pillow and repeated it a few more times, "I just want to go home", then the tears exhausted them and he found some peace in a dark, powerless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand Thomas never dared to call George 'uncle' again. Yeah, so, Washington isn't the best person in this story, sorry about that.  
> Traditionally, black pudding is a sausage made from pig entrails and blood, but in ancient times it was used liquid as a cure to make people of poor health stronger, as was snake venom and pure fish oil (containing mercury) which ended up having disastrous effects on patients. Symptoms of intoxication included tingling, breathing difficulties (such as coughing and chest tightness), nausea and vomiting, headaches and fever.  
> What can I say, maybe the next chapter will be better, maybe worse. Maybe Thomas has already been infected, maybe not. ¯\\_^-^_/¯


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really long chapter and I don't know why.  
> We meet James Madison again, a friendly face returns, BUT trigger warning: emotional abuse, self-induced vomiting.

Thomas couldn't convince himself that the breakfast with George would somehow be more bearable than his physical pains in any way. Angelica's lotion had helped, but the pain was still excruciating when he walked and knowing that everyone could see him limping and seeking support from the walls of the hallways made him burn with shame.

However, it all went by the wayside when compared to the hour of pure frost in George's study. At first, he had simply been ignored as George read his papers frowning, then he was humiliated once again when the elder decided to tell him the result of his visit.

"You're not ready to handle the child's pains, you have too weak a build", he cast already disgruntled a quick glance at Thomas' almost intact breakfast, "And you do nothing to improve it."

"I have recently entered the seventh month..." whispered Thomas in hopes of reasoning with the ruler.

George continued as if the prince had said nothing: "Sir Hosack said he had never met anyone who still seemed perfectly virgin after marriage. Alexander will be delighted."

It was a more than inappropriate and indecent comment. If the words said to him the day before had not continued to haunt Thomas, he would have marveled at the King's audacity.

George read one particular passage on the paper in his hand, looked up to look at Thomas, and then stared at the letter again, sighing as he set it down on his desk: "Do you care to be a part of this family, Thomas?"

"I-"

'I don't know', he'd deluded himself into thinking he was already a part of it, hadn't hoped for anything else since marriage. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Yes, that's all I want."

"Good" George said curtly, "Then prove it. I'm sure you've realized the thoughtlessness and immaturity you've shown in the past few days, and I trust you're already trying to improve yourself. You can start by finishing your meal."

Thomas kept his gaze fixed on his breakfast. A small side of him would have wanted to respond, would have wanted to bare his teeth and challenge every single word the ruler had said. Instead, he took a long sip of his milk, aware that any other move would only bring him more trouble, and he couldn't be more determined to avoid it.

He caught sight of Alexander's handwriting on the back of the new letter George took to reading, and couldn't stop himself from asking: "Is he all right?"

The King looked at the prince just in time to see him bite his lower lip, clearly regretting having spoken: "Yes, he's just upset about the Council's choice to put certain generals in command alongside him, but removed that he's fine."

The brief conversation (so brief it might not have boasted that title) seemed to end there, Thomas hurried to finish drinking his milk in hopes of returning to his room as soon as possible, and George surely had something to do instead of watching him like a hawk. Instead, the elder spoke again: "How do you rate yourself as a consort?"

Thomas stared at him confused, setting down his own cup: "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you think you're a good husband? You've fulfilled the first of your duties, what about the others?", George grew impatient soon enough with the Frenchman's little babbling, "You know how to satisfy him, that much is obvious, so is your devotion to your wedding vows, but do you really understand their full meaning?"

"I... yes, I think I do" Thomas finally managed to say, "Why are you asking me this? I don't feel like I've ever done anything to disgrace or disrespect Alexander."

"But you refuse to obey" George promptly replied harshly, "Doesn't that seem to imply the first two?"

Thomas thinned his gaze, trying to understand what the King was implying and where he was going with it: "I'm not a dog, Alexander doesn't need to give me orders and I've always done what was required of me."

"Yet you have been requested several times to be examined and never listened to anyone, including and especially Alexander" the King pointed out, "I am forced to remind you that you have agreed to relinquish the role of pater-familias, this means that your wishes and opinions, with all due respect, take a back seat to those of your husband."

Thomas remained silent again, biting the inside of his cheeks in an attempt not to yell at the elder to stay out of the dynamic he had with his husband.

George, for his part, did nothing but continue to torment the younger man. He ran a hand over his face in defeat and sighed as he now realized he could manipulate the Frenchman: "What should I write to him, Thomas? Don't you think that, after what he's been through these past few months, it's not the case to become an even heavier burden on him?"

'I'm not a burden-', this time the thought didn't even have time to complete itself, 'Yes, you are.'

Thomas kept his gaze down and shook his head slightly. George reached out to push the saucer with a vanilla roll slowly into the Frenchman's field of vision.

"I just want to help you, Thomas" he said in an overly cheesy voice, smiling contentedly when the younger took a bite of the roll.

The usually comfortable scent of cinnamon uncomfortably tingled the prince's sense of smell and even the delicate taste of vanilla seemed too strong on his tongue, but at least his stomach had decided not to fight back against the intrusion of the pastry, though that certainly didn't mean that Thomas was somehow in any physical position to manage to finish it.

"Has he ever asked about me?" he asked in a hushed tone, as if he didn't want to be heard, afraid of the answer.

George stared at him without however meeting his gaze, quickly wondering what it would be convenient for him to answer, before deciding on a half-truth: "Several times in every letter, he practically asked me to be your nanny", he immediately noticed the small spark in Thomas' eyes and knew that was the time to continue, "That's why I had to take some uncomfortable liberties. I would never do anything the whole family wouldn't approve of."

Now, that was kind of a lie, but of course the Frenchman didn't need to know this, at least according to George.

Well, Thomas had already prepared himself for the possibility that it was Alexander himself who had forced the doctor's visit, but the preparation still did nothing to dampen the ton of negative emotions that came crashing down on his heart.

He was tired, he just wanted to be alone and forget about the last two-no, three-days.

Even his facial muscles seemed to have hardened, his jaw seemed almost bored, giving him a feeling of great effort every time he bit into the roll. Eventually he swallowed almost without chewing and placed the remainder of the dessert in the saucer. After all, it was obvious he wasn't going to finish it, he knew it and the King knew it.

George still gave the prince a disapproving look. Getting up from his chair, he headed composedly towards the wall that housed the painting of his beloved late wife: "She was perfect, you know? She always knew her place and how to behave on the most diverse occasions. She was strong, much stronger than anyone I've ever met", he lifted the corners of his lips at the memory of his Queen, then frowned again and looked back at Thomas, "But that didn't spare her from a tragic and unexpected death... I want you to become like her."

Thomas fluttered his gaze from the painting to the King repeatedly. He hadn't heard much about Martha, he didn't dare to doubt that she was an extraordinary woman, but until then he had always been compared to Rachel; he would have been more enticed by the sovereign's request if he had mentioned Alexander's mother's name.

"I don't know if I'm capable... or up to it."

George smiled at the understandable doubt: "Dear, no one will ever be up to her, but we'll try. Indeed", he walked to the bookcase and picked up a small but thick diary, "This was hers, she wrote until the day before she passed away. I trust you will take even more care of it than you do for all those other books I've seen you read."

Thomas picked up the diary as if it might burst into flames at any moment. So, that was it? He would have to memorize what Martha had written and then George would be satisfied with him?

'No, maybe he'll just leave you alone' George's voice corrected him through his mind, 'He'll never be satisfied with you.'

Suppressing his self-pity for a second, he realized that he couldn't leave unless George gave him permission, and he certainly wouldn't have given it to him if he had merely asked. Well, how did he earn it then?

The answer was Henry Knox, Count of Boston and close friend of the King.

The Count asked the guards to inform the King that the extraordinary meeting with a few members of the Council was only a few minutes away, so George could do nothing more than prepare the papers to take with him and quickly dismiss the Frenchman.

"I wonder why they insist on calling it 'extraordinary'? It's one of the most normal things we do" he joked quietly, "You already know what you have to do: no strain, no cold, eat something every two hours and read that diary. Don't disappoint me again."

God, Thomas had been waiting for nothing else. He stood up with undue haste (much to the chagrin of the lower half of his own body), holding Martha's diary tightly in his hands, and almost rushed out of the room ignoring the elder's next words, the ones he had already heard were more than enough.

'Keep walking. Just keep walking. Calm down and keep walking.'

By dint of repeating himself to keep walking he passed the doors of his own apartments, then those of the noble-floor and then again the stairs to the second floor, and soon found himself almost running towards one of the few rooms in which he still felt safe.

He knew what was happening and had no idea how to stop it. That was the worst thing, even worse than not being able to stop darting from hallway to hallway or feeling like he had blinders on that prevented him from seeing anything besides in front of him. Of course, this could only lead to more damage.

With only one door away from his destination, he wouldn't have even stopped, convinced that he had hit a doorjamb or something like that, if he hadn't heard an annoyed sound that could only indicate that the something in question was a person; Henry Knox, to be precise. The same Henry Knox who had 'saved' him from George now turned around confused along with two annoyed John Adams and Patrick Henry. The look of irritation on both of their faces fell as soon as they both recognized the prince and hurried to offer their apologies.

Thomas mumbled something like: "It's my fault" before apologizing three times to the men. When his vision settled, he saw that Madison Jr. was also with them, so he hurried to apologize to him as well.

If he had looked in the mirror, he would not have blamed the surprised expressions on the faces of the four, he must have looked like a madman at that moment. As soon as he felt the surprise change to judgment, he apologized again and hurried to hide in the longed-for room.

Being finally able to assert with certainty that he was not observed by anyone, he leaned back against the fortunately closed door in search of a few seconds of silence to restore a modicum of mental tranquillity. Perhaps if he had moved away immediately he would not have heard the comments coming from the hallway.

"Someone should inform him that the Royal Symbol is an eagle, not a dove!", this had to be Patrick Henry's voice.

"I hate to see my fears come true, but we definitely picked the wrong Frenchman", this was Adams, without a shadow of a doubt.

Pulling himself away from the door, Thomas walked in increasing frustration through the library, making sure he was actually alone, which he was. What a waste to own a library of that size and know that it was frequented by only a few.

After a couple of laps around the room he found himself in the spot where they had kissed with Alexander, when the American had sworn to him that he didn't see him as a piece of meat. Instinctively he looked at the diary that he still held too tightly in his hands and that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

That was it. He couldn't take it any further. He wasn't sad or lonely or melancholy anymore, he was angry, and exhausted and tired, and he just wanted to kick something or tear a pillow apart with his fingernails and scream. How much he wanted to scream. So he did.

He screamed like he hadn't in years, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd done it. It was nothing like the scream that was wrenched from him by Hosack, it was loud and threatening, it could have startled a wild animal, and this time the tears had nothing weak and helpless about them. Somehow he seemed to feel the causes of the scream coming out and crashing against the wall: George, the doctors, the food, Alexander, the ministers, all shattered and scattered into a thousand tiny shards of glass.

What the hell was he doing there? He had no one to treat him with any understanding except the Schuyler sisters, his 'family' had practically abandoned him and made it clear he was no good for them, he was the object of derision among the other nobles and even worse by the ministers.

It was only when he felt his own scream shake him to his fingertips that he stopped to allow himself to catch his breath. He brought the diary against his forehead, clasping it even tighter in his hands, and breathed as deeply as he could, interrupted only by occasional small and broken sobs.

And then a thought crossed his mind: the baby would be born in a couple of months. If it was a boy, Thomas would have no more obligation to stay at the palace, his duties would be almost entirely completed; he would just have to have another son after some time. He could ask to be transferred to some other Royal estate (perhaps near the French territories), he would not bother anyone and no one would bother him.

'It's perfect, they have no reason not to accept the request. It will be one less burden for everyone' he thought with his eyes closed, stubborn in their best imitation of the rain on the prince's cheeks.

A flick of a cough warned him that he was no longer alone, a very close flick. He turned his head a little to peek at who it was and recognized Madison's profile before turning back to the wall to fix himself as best he could. If only those stupid tears had stopped falling instead of embarrassing him by running his hand over his face several times.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you to your studies, I was about to leave" he managed to say in an almost controlled tone, then noticed a handkerchief being brought to his left. He hesitated a second before accepting it resignedly with himself, murmuring: "Thank you..."

Madison didn't enter his personal space, remaining respectfully a few steps away behind the prince's back, which the latter particularly appreciated.

"You're welcome, it's a pleasure", the Royal's discomfort and embarrassment was more than palpable and Madison wasn't about to make it worse, "They're uniquely intense, it almost feels like you're living the characters' stories. Inimitable, really."

Quickly wiping his eyes and cheeks, Thomas turned slowly to face the other boy without masking his confusion: "What?"

"The great classics" Madison replied easily, pointing to the shelves next to the Frenchman, "I must admit that I have been moved several times myself during certain readings. May I be so bold as to say that, in my opinion, you have just finished reading the Roman poet Catullus' poem forty-six?"

They both knew that the prince had read no poem or anything else, it was just a way of not embarrassing Thomas further, and the Frenchman could not be more grateful.

"Unfortunately, I consider Catullus rather overrated" he replied with a small smile, "I was reading Euripides' Electra."

"Strong character, I admit" Madison retorted cordially, "But I've always preferred Sophocles' version."

The Virginian had certainly hit one of the prince's weak points. A debate ensued on all the classics that were mentioned in the conversation and, in the end, Thomas got involved to the point of challenging the other: "Well, let's have a comparison then. Now we'll sit down, I'll read your favourite passage from Sophocles and you read mine from Euripides. Let's see who's right."

And thus they stayed for who knows how long reading together, pretending to care who would win as the bubble that usually isolated Thomas in the library slowly expanded to include Madison just enough to be able to, if necessary, remove him. Fortunately, there was no need, Madison was just like Thomas, more caught up in his own thoughts or books to keep up with most of the rules of etiquette or others' expectations.

Thomas began to get distracted when no one came to call him to have lunch with the King; not that he was complaining about it, however it was strange, maybe the meeting was taking longer than expected, it wouldn't be the first time. He was a little surprised when a servant came in to inform Madison of the activities of his 'mentors' without any news of the King; perhaps George had momentarily forgotten about him.

'Yes, I wish' he teased himself.

"It's a matter of a few minutes before departure, would you like me to have a horse prepared for you as well?" the man asked.

"No, I have already warned that I prefer to avoid this time. Thank you for your availability and sorry if I wasted your time" he said with a hint of regret present in his voice.

Thomas waited patiently until they were alone in the room again before awkwardly saying: "You don't have to stay here, I'm afraid your career would suffer for it."

"I'm staying here because I want to" asserted the other, "And besides, I doubt if a hunting trip would affect my career in any way, if anything it would just earn me yet another sickness. I'll have other opportunities to earn the King's sympathy."

"Is the King going hunting too?" wondered the prince aloud.

"Yes, I've been told that falconry and suchlike are some of his favourite entertainments. Perhaps it has slipped your mind with all this reading", having said that Madison returned to his own book.

The fact that the Virginian hadn't asked if Thomas didn't know that made the Frenchman smile slightly. It was probably a very childish thing, but it made him feel like for the first time he wasn't considered stupid.

"Yes, perhaps I was distracted when it was communicated to me" which explained why no one had come to call him to have lunch with George.

"Maybe after your child birth you could go hunting with the King too" Madison tried to encourage.

Thomas huffed out an unenthusiastic laugh, turning to look out the window at the horses riding away with their 'riders'.

"Yes, I don't think so. I'm not much of a hunter and I feel like everyone has figured out by now that I don't do well around hawks or eagles."

"Well, they are imposing and majestic birds, looking a bit arrogant if I may say so", Madison decided to let the prince know that he wasn't referring to actual animals either, "Personally, I've always preferred doves to eagles."

Thomas couldn't help but turn to look at the other without being able to suppress the smile of gratitude on his face.

They didn't say anything more on the subject, for both of them the matter was solved; they continued to read and exchange opinions on the most disparate topics instead. They had something to eat brought to the library and Thomas rediscovered the pleasure of having lunch without pressure or judgement and it soon became clear that his bubble could happily include Madison in it.

It wasn't until they saw the group that had left in the morning riding on their way back to the stables that they reluctantly felt they had to part ways.

"Thank you for the pleasant time spent together, Sir Madison. Your company is one of the most enjoyable I have had the pleasure of experiencing" the prince confessed sincerely.

"The compliment is mutual, Your Highness", he hesitated for a second (aware that it was not exactly proper on his part) before adding shyly: "I, uhm, will also be here tomorrow, at the same time. I don't know if you'd be interested..."

Thomas smiled once again, incredulous that he had found a small sliver of serenity and pleasure after all that had happened. Taking Martha's diary in one hand, he performed the very first action that would prompt him to raise his head in that place: "I'll be back here tomorrow too, and the day after and the day after that, if you'd like."

\---

Actually, it was still early for the tea with George, so Thomas didn't know exactly what to do. He didn't want to face the Schuyler sisters, they would look at him with pity, they would be condescending and that was something he hated; Aisha was still in their apartments, so she was out of the question too.

In the end, he forced himself to read Martha's diary. The first pages didn't convey much to him, in fact he found them rather boring. The late Queen must have been one of those people who wrote down every event of the day for no apparent reason. The 'narrative' opened with the woman's first birthday at the palace, four months after her wedding with George. She talked about her ladies-in-waiting, her thoughts about the week's gospel and-oh, this was interesting: Martha had written about revealing to George that she was pregnant two weeks earlier and that he was lovingly enthusiastic about it.

Thomas did a quick calculation with the dates in his knowledge. Martha had died after only five years of marriage and without having given birth to any children. Thomas narrowed his eyes with a grimace at the realization: miscarriage. Sure, it was unfortunately common and he knew the Queen had had a couple, but reading her happiness knowing how it would turn out was honestly distressing.

Then he read a name he hoped he would never have to deal with again: Hosack; from what he could guess he was still not the royal private physician, but an assistant (like Gillen) to a certain Sir James Craik, though the methods seemed to be the same. Obviously, Martha was well disposed and eager to let herself be visited, so what in Thomas' mind were horrible episodes in the diary were routine visits.

Thomas took note of all the procedures marked by Martha in order to avoid them if ever Hosack tried to execute them on him, and the blood froze in his veins when he read 'black pudding'. The Queen had had some sort of menstrual loss in the fifth or sixth month and Craik didn't hesitate to make her drink the stuff, not that she gave any signs of not wanting to. On one hand he pitied her, she had no idea of the effects of the liquid and was just trying to get her baby to survive, on the other he couldn't forgive her for becoming addicted to it, to the point of drinking it several times every day.

'Good Lord, maybe she wouldn't have lost the baby if she hadn't drunk it.'

After thinking this, Thomas covered his stomach protectively. What if he had lost the child, too? He had vomited the black pudding, but what if it had already damaged his precious baby?

'No, no' he imposed to himself, 'You have to trust Angelica and Eliza.'

As he continued his reading, it soon became clear to him that the only thing the two of them had in common was their unconditional love for their children, even though Martha kept referring to hers as a son, ruling out any possibility that it could be a girl. Thomas found this rather annoying, especially since, despite the pressures and duties, he would have wished for a daughter.

'My desires take a back seat anyway' he told himself, echoing what he had been told in the morning.

In any case he could not understand how Martha could have been so certain that she was going to have a boy, perhaps she was just convinced that she could not fail, it seemed like something George would approve of.

In one of the few pages that didn't mention her pregnancy she recounted an argument with a friend, Charlotte; Thomas wondered if it was the same Charlotte who would later be married to Charles, but decided to think about it later. The triggering factor was Martha's obsession with her medicines; Charlotte had hidden all the bottles from her in the hope of putting a limit on her addiction, and Martha had 'reacted in an impermissibly and overly defensive manner', which Thomas loosely understood as 'going out of her mind'. By now it was obvious that the Queen had omitted some details of which she herself was ashamed, but Thomas was convinced (from the few clues in his favour) that she had almost turned her own apartments upside down. The situation only subsided when it was George himself who intervened, and in the next few lines Martha complained that her daily doses had been reduced.

There followed comments about Charlotte and considerations about the possibility of removing her from the Queen's private affections, but then she seemed to return to being that balanced and composed woman the King boasted about and wrote that she had forgiven her friend's thoughtlessness, but only because she did not know that, without her medicines, she would not have been able to insure- 'It's not possible' said Thomas.

'That's not possible' Thomas told himself.

He reread the sentence several times but the content didn't change: _"I could not secure a male heir to the throne, of all things black pudding is my greatest certainty of success."_

He could almost hear the sound of the pieces coming together like wheels on a clock. He took to flipping through each page as fast as he could in search of a confirmation (confession would have been more appropriate) that came only when the Queen wrote about the second pregnancy.

Closing the diary furiously, he stormed towards the King's study, not caring if there were other people there. He was ready to burst into his private apartments if necessary. Fortunately, the guards did nothing to stop him, they knew he had permission to enter and honestly didn't want his obvious anger to come over them.

He didn't even knock, manners could go to hell for all he cared, and violently slammed the door open, slightly startling both the monarch and Henry Knox.

The latter tried to suppress his surprise by striking up a conversation with the Frenchman: "Your Highness, how nice to see you again today! Are you feeling better? You seemed exceedingly troubled this morning."

Thomas didn't even look at him, determined not to move his gaze from the sovereign, replying: "I still am. Would you be so courteous as to leave us alone?"

Knox turned to look at the King waiting for an order and quickly left the room when George nodded slowly fixing his gaze on Thomas.

When the door closed and they were left alone, George raised an eyebrow and said: "It's early for tea, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"You had me examined with the purpose of making me have a boy?" asked Thomas clenching his fists along his sides.

George looked surprised for only a split second, then calmly sat down and took up writing as if nothing was happening.

"I thought we agreed that you would stop feeling perpetually attacked and playing the victim. Wasn't your 'incident' in the hallway this morning enough?"

"Stop treating me like a child and answer me!" the younger yelled at him and had no intention of showing regret or lowering his gaze for once.

George stopped writing and lifted his head to stare at the Frenchman, looking him icy in the eye as he said: "I had you examined with the purpose of making sure the child was all right, since you didn't and don't seem to care."

Thomas could not have explained even in a thousand and thousand words what that statement triggered in him.

"Don't you even dare to think you can put a word in about what are my feeling, you're not the one who' s carrying and feeling the child day after day!"

George looked at him with the most neutral face Thomas had ever seen, perfectly choosing the devious and cruel words: "Every time I have any illusions that you are about to commit to becoming at least a little bit appropriate to this family, you always manage to make me change my mind."

Did his words hurt? Yes. Would Thomas have lowered his head and let the matter drop? No.

"It's no longer a matter of being appropriate or not, George! You think you can make me have a boy by poisoning me! Are you really convinced that that stuff is for anything other than destroying my body from the inside?!"

"Why don't you try, at least for once, to be up to the situation and trust those who have more experience than you?" asked George exasperated, "It's a method used in all Royal Families since it was discovered, no one is trying to poison you."

"You can't change something that has already been decided, that's one of the craziest things I've ever heard! Don't you have even a little faith in God?!"

"Oh, I have plenty of faith in God" the King replied serenely, "But if our medical knowledge allows us to multiply, as much as possible, the chances of a male heir, why should we take the risk?"

"Because it does nothing but harm both the child and those who carry it!", Thomas appealed to the only thing that could help him, "Don't you realize the disastrous effects it has had on Martha?! Is it better to become addicted to a poison than having a female as first child?"

George's face darkened drastically as he slowly rose from his chair: "Martha has had the misfortune to suffer many complications during her pregnancies and yet she has always responded with dignity and demeanour. Frankly, I am more than a little concerned about the ease with which you allow your ideals to cloud your perception of reality."

Thomas' legs wobbled for a moment, tempted to take a step back, but he managed to keep them steady for a while longer.

"And what would that reality be? That having a male is the only way to be respected in the palace and conceal your hatred towards me?"

George easily walked around the desk until he was only a few inches from Thomas and slowly but firmly placed his hands on both of the younger's arms, towering over him: "I don't hate you, Thomas, I have no reason to. On the contrary, I want you to have a happy and peaceful life, free of the pains this family has known more than once, and to guarantee this I can do nothing but take all the necessary precautions, however unpleasant and sad they may be. Because, let's face it, on your own you would be completely helpless and unable to survive in this palace."

"That's kind of a weird way of showing it..." Thomas whispered staring at the floor.

"The problem is that you're not making the slightest effort to put yourself in my shoes, or anyone else's for that matter. I was hoping that reading Martha's diary would help you understand the meaning of sacrifice to your family."

"I will never be like her" Thomas declared with certainty, "I can't and I won't, I'm sorry."

When he heard the elder sigh, he didn't give him time to criticize, continuing to speak: "I don't look like her in anything, I feel much closer to Alexander's mother, I-"

"You similar to Rachel?" the sovereign asked with a sarcastic laugh, "You don't know what you're talking about. No, you're more like Charlotte at the moment, and that's not the best thing."

Now, that was the time to put his head down and escape the King's penetrating eyes.

"Can't I just be Thomas?"

George let go of his arm only to catch his chin with his hand and bring him back to look him in the eye. God, he and Alexander had the same way of doing things.

"Thomas is not enough, you must be Prince Thomas of France and America, consort to Prince Alexander and humble servant to all his lands. That's what we all want, that's what Alexander wants. Do you understand that?" he asked softly.

Thomas admitted to himself that it made sense, in a way it was even legitimate, he had left France for a political matter, he would have to do anything to mend fences with America.

What an idiot he'd been to think he wouldn't be seen as an object, Alexander had probably told him that just to avoid arguing and to be able to have more fun in bed.

Tired of receiving no response, George tightened his grip on the Frenchman's face, not too much to hurt him but enough to bring him back to attention, and asked again: "Do you understand?"

Thomas nodded slightly making the whisper of a small 'yes' follow.

George satisfactorily let go of the grip on his chin, but not the one on his arm, instead he moved even closer to the Frenchman, nullifying the small distance between them, and wrapped him in a suffocating embrace.

Thomas didn't return the gesture, instead he left his arms still along his sides and worked hard not to burst into an attack like the one in the morning when the sovereign took to caressing his back with one hand and the nape of his neck with the other. At this point the anger had faded to being just a request: "Don't make me drink the black pudding anymore, please..."

"We'll talk about this later" George replied quietly, "Right now I just want you to go back to your room and get some rest, you need to be perfect this evening. Understood?" he asked undoing the one-sided embrace, but remaining just a few inches away.

Thomas nodded instinctively without dwelling on why it had to be perfect, ready to leave before George could see him cry. Unfortunately, the elder wasn't done yet.

"Look at me" he ordered in that tone that admitted no reply. He watched as the younger raised his head to meet his gaze and contemplated the solitary drop that poured solitarily from his right eye, then brought his hand up to cradle his cheek (without touching the saltwater strip) and said: "These are the last tears I will grant you in front of anyone, whoever they may be."

"Yes, George" Thomas replied almost apathetically.

The King held his hand on the other man's cheek a little longer, scrutinizing every invisible, hidden detail on his face. Once he had found every apparent secret, he bent down to kiss the prince's forehead, as was now his custom. It was a strong gesture, and he knew it could keep him in check for a while, so why not take advantage of it?

"I liked it much better when you called me 'uncle', you should do that more often, don't you think?" he murmured to him before pulling away, "We can skip the tea for today, I'll see you at dinner."

\---

Thomas waited restlessly until dinner was ready. Once back in his room he had sat for a good hour staring at the wood burning in the fireplace without thinking of anything. He got up out of nowhere to write a short message to Peggy asking her to bring Aisha back, suddenly determined not to sleep alone anymore.

His eyes stumbled on Martha's diary, full of unread pages containing who knows how much more information; the temptation and curiosity were overcome by something Thomas couldn't name, but that made him write down everything that was going through his mind, every emotion, every thought, every unshed tear and every not-shouted scream. It was strange, he hadn't done it in a long time and it was actually liberating, maybe that was why Alexander liked it so much. As soon as the image of his husband crossed his mind, he lost all concept of what he was writing about, he just knew that it somehow described his feelings of the last three months. After he had also finished the space on the back of the paper he took five minutes to breathe, which easily became fifteen when he instinctively started doing his anti-panic exercises.

Staring at the paper again, he remembered why he usually didn't write anything down. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as he read the first three words, and folded the paper several times, almost spasmodically. He quickly hid it in the drawer where he kept Alexander's letters with the promise to change its place as soon as possible, not wanting it neither in his nightstand nor anywhere else where he might find it by accident.

He was certain that if, he had leaned for even a second on the soft bed, he would had never gotten up again, so he opted to change clothes. He had no idea why George expected him to look perfect that evening, but he hoped a simple but elegant plum-coloured suit would be just fine for him.

It was when he turned to the mirror to check that everything was in order that something clicked in his head, leading him to walk out of his apartments all the way down the hallway, in an almost trance-like state, until he reached the chapel door.

'Well, it won't be a problem for anyone if I stay here for the remaining time' he said to himself as he opened the door. It was when he turned to the mirror to check that everything was in order that something clicked in his head, leading him to walk out of his apartments all the way down the hallway, in an almost trance-like state, until he reached the chapel door.

'Well, it won't be a problem for anyone if I stay here for the remaining time,' he said to himself as he opened the door. Once inside and made the sign of the cross he hurried to the corner that housed the votive candles to light one, without paying attention to the fact that there was another one already lit.

"Thomas?"

The unexpected voice almost made him jump in fright, especially since it was immediately followed by a hand on his shoulder, to which the prince replied by immediately pulling back a couple of steps before focusing on his interlocutor.

"Who-, Charles! But how-", he hadn't in the least realized that it had already been two days since George had told him that his brother was coming home, though in his defense he had good reason to forget, "When did you get back?" he asked, holding back from running up to him.

"This afternoon; I ran into George and several of the Council's fools returning from a hunting trip" he explained with a small wink.

"I was not informed, I would have come to welcome you" complained Thomas.

"Oh, no", Charles prevented him from continuing any further, "I was told you were resting, I don't want you to bother for me" he continued gently.

Thomas shook his head, reassuring him: "It's no bother, you-", he looked away, should he have said that? Maybe Charles too had a hidden side ready to come out like George's, he had thought about it several times; but in the end it was just an innocent statement, no one could take it the wrong way, right?

"I missed you" he murmured, wringing his hands in nervousness.

Charles looked at him confused as he twisted his fingers: "I missed you a lot too" he assured him, then placed his own right hand over his son-in-law's, hoping he would stop from that constant twisting and wringing, "Thomas, is something wrong?"

He assumed the answer was 'yes' because he found, as fast as lightning, the younger attached to his torso, his face hidden between the folds of his coat.

"Hey, everything's fine" Charles tried to reassure him, comfortably running a hand through his hair, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Thomas shook his head, turning away from his father-in-law.

"It's the mood swings due to the baby, sorry" he quickly made up. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't talk to anyone about what had happened and he certainly couldn't do that after his last talk with George.

"But you were praying, I don't want to interrupt you any further, can I-"

"No, please, stay" Charles interrupted him, decidedly unconvinced by his behavior, "We can pray together, I'm sure Our Lord won't mind knowing this room is used more than one person at a time."

Thomas flashed a small smile, accepting the invitation, and allowed himself to be led to the first pew, where they sat in silence. He felt guilty praying for his new family to leave him alone and start accepting him when he had by his side the very man who had never given him reason to doubt his affection (well, there had been the annoying comment on the first day, but a bad day could happen), but in the end he was easily lost in his own prayers and musings, oblivious to the older's worried and concerned looks.

\---

Charles remained focused on the Frenchman for as long as he could keep his eyes on him and beyond. By now he had discarded the idea that he might simply be tired and didn't believe for a second the story of the mood swings. George was surprised and a little disappointed to see them arrive at dinner together, confessing that he would have liked to see the youngest's reaction when he saw his brother.

The air was different from the one he was used to, normally it was Thomas who radiated sympathy and warmth at the table, but that night he seemed totally absent, too composed. He didn't laugh at any joke or anecdote, occasionally lifting the corners of his lips just to give the impression that he was paying attention. Even more suspicious were the fleeting glances they exchanged with George whenever Thomas slowed down to eat, which happened all too often according to Charles.

"Look you don't have to eat everything if you don't want to" he told him when he saw his discouragement at the sight of dessert.

He didn't miss the way Thomas looked at the King, eyes wide and alert, before replying: "No, it's just a little nausea. Besides, you never say no to dessert, right?"

"Right..." he murmured even less convinced than before. It was almost painful to see him eat the first forkful of the chocolate treat, judging by the look on his face it must not have had the best of flavors and he clearly had some kind of difficulty swallowing.

At the fourth forkful he decided to put an end to that agony: "You look tired, Thomas. Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to go to bed."

"I'm sure he would like to finish his cake first" George interjected, "Besides, you should do it too, you've always liked chocolate."

Charles gave him a sly smile: "I'll eat it when I'm hungry, don't worry. Besides, Thomas has already eaten enough, he can allow himself to leave some dessert", he turned to the Frenchman, "Thomas, for me you have permission to retire, I'm sure George agrees as well."

Thomas looked at the King ready for his denial, which, however, was late in coming. Finally, George leaned wearily against the back of the chair and dismissed Thomas with a quick wave of his hand: "I suppose that would be fine."

The prince didn't let them say it twice, wished them both goodnight and almost ran out of the room.

Charles waited until he saw him leave and close the doors before turning to his brother: "What have you done to him?"

"Your insinuations offend me, little brother. I only encouraged him to do his best" the King replied quietly and without remorse.

"Mh, I remember your way of encouraging is rather questionable" commented Charles unamused, "Tell me what happened."

"Nothing important. You still haven't told me anything about your trip, how is everyone?" wandered George.

"Don't pretend you care, George. I don't feel like getting angry, I'm not in the mood for an argument" the younger brother warned, "Just tell me how serious it is."

The elder seemed to pretend he heard nothing, but Charles didn't care, the less he pleaded the more the pressure would force the other to speak. Indeed, after not even five minutes George ended up telling him: "He just needs a friendly face to push him to do his best."

"A friendly face, aren't you anymore?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow, "How quickly things change."

"Yes, I'm afraid I've become to him the same as you are to Alexander and James" George replied pointedly.

Charles had no trouble responding in kind: "Yes, well, that's what happens when we take on certain responsibilities, even when they're not ours to take", he took a sip from his own glass, "Now, we're in for a very long night if you don't decide to talk to me."

\---

Once back in his rooms, Thomas was immediately greeted by sweet crackling purrs and soft fur surrounding his legs with the help of a tail. Curling up on the floor, he didn't hesitate to shower his beloved tiger with all the caresses and cuddles he had denied her over the past few days.

"My little overgrown cat... I will never leave you again" he promised, burying his face in the thick fur. Aisha had been waiting for nothing more than an opportunity like this to throw all the weight on her owner and climb on top of him, trying to settle herself comfortably on his legs like when she was much smaller in size. Letting herself go in celebration for having come 'home', the tiger took to moving snappily all over the living room to let Thomas know that she wanted to play.

Thomas carefully got up from the floor and threw the abandoned cushion of an armchair at her, which was promptly bitten and sent flying across the room. Now that Aisha would be distracted for a while, Thomas could return to his concerns about dinner.

He had not been perfect, he could see that for himself, and surely George would point that out to him the next day, but that was not what scared him. The King had dismissed his request about the black pudding, and now all he could think about was that he'd treacherously made him ingest it. The thought had haunted him all through dinner and the confirmation seemed to come along with the chocolate cake, too dark and sweet, followed by an aftertaste that could be trivially described as bitter, but was more like an ill-concealed flavor.

Maybe he was 'just' going crazy, maybe he really was a victim who knew nothing but to suspect anyone and anything in order to somehow give himself prominence; but it wasn't worth the risk. Making sure that the feline was still too busy biting and clawing at the cushion, he sat down on the bed and picked up the chamber pot that he had been using more than necessary for the past three days and waited, unsure of how to proceed; the food was uncomfortable in his stomach, but not enough to cause him to reject it.

Then it occurred to him when Eliza made him vomit on Angelica's orders. He steeled himself only through his love for the child, ignoring to the best of his ability the disgust and discomfort on his palate as he pushed two fingers deeper and deeper into his own mouth, searching for the spot that would stimulate the vomit reflex. He grew more and more disheartened as he felt his body react to the stimulus, but his stomach remained tightly closed and protected. When he had had enough, he pushed his fingers even harder and farther from the front to the back of his uvula, causing what was a slight tingling in his eyes to grow into involuntary reflex tears; the pain was a lot, but it was necessary. Indeed, almost immediately, the throat recognized the sense of danger and, like a good soldier, repelled the foreign intrusion, forcing the enemies to retreat.

Responsive enough not to panic, Thomas waited patiently for the entire dinner to be expelled from his body along with the possible poison it concealed. It was horrible: the burning, the taste, the knowledge that he had done it voluntarily, made him feel dirty, and yet... George wanted him to be willing to do anything for his family and he was doing it for his child, so it was justifiable, even comprehensible! This made him feel slightly better as he set the chamber pot down on the floor.

The sounds or smell or instinct led Aisha to enter the bedroom slowly and sit up straight and shrewdly on the side of the bed, very close to the man's leg. No one in their right mind could have believed that animals had the capacity for facial expression, but Thomas had realized he hadn't been in that category for a while, so to him Aisha was staring at him sadly and kindly.

"It's all right, balle de fourrure” he ran a hand over her head, "It's over. Do you want to sleep here?" he asked stroking the blankets with his other hand. He chuckled softly as the tiger moved her hips and climbed relatively gracefully onto the bed next to him, resuming her purring and nuzzling for cuddles.

“Give me a minute, I'll get ready for bed and come over, all right?", not that she could answer, but at least she rolled comfortably across the mattress.

He had the impression that his movements had slowed down a lot, but he certainly didn't expect to be fit and spry after self-inducing vomiting. He grabbed a new nightgown from the drawer without paying attention and only after crumpling it did, he realize it was one of the ones Alexander had brought to his room months before. He laid it on the bed with a weary sigh, before grabbing one of his own and finally being able to change.

Once ready, he turned to pick up his husband's garment and put it back, but it was no longer where he had left it. Instead, it lay a little between the feline's teeth and a little under her front paws, and Aisha stared at him with a very-too-innocent look, as if to say: "Oh, wasn't that a toy for me?"

Returning to his side of the bed, he reprimanded her with a little tug on her tail (of which Aisha seemed surprised and offended): "Alexander had a point then, you really do spite him", the little meow of protest was freely interpreted as a lying 'no'.

Thomas slipped under the covers and absent-mindedly took to brushing the tiger, staring at the canopy to see what he should have been thinking about first. Martha's diary and all it implied was more than important, but so was Charles' return; then there was the fact that George didn't hate him but acted like he did, followed by the uncertainty of what Charles was thinking or if he was hiding something from him. Why would he have to be like Martha, but not like Charlotte and not consider Rachel? Was Sophocles' Electra really better than Euripides'?

'Don't ramble, you have a lot to think about, you need to stay focused' he admonished himself. There were a lot of unanswered questions, he couldn't dwell on nonsense or get distracted and consequently give in to sleep, which he did before he even realized it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got tired of the formalities and technicalities and decided to use she/her for Aisha because yes.  
> Anyway, small potato James  
> The next chapter will be one of the first ones I imagined for the story, so WOO, here we go, time for big revelations!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff, random stuff. No warnings.  
> The chapter begins with the morning of January 11 and ends with the morning of the 15th.

Charles spent the next three days making sure his son-in-law didn't suffer as much as he had in the previous months. It was more difficult than expected, Thomas spent the entire first day making up all kinds of excuses to avoid him and, honestly, he couldn't blame him, what he had heard from George was more than enough to push him to full alertness; he understood perfectly why Thomas didn't want to talk to him, who knows how scared he must have been or what was going through his mind.

He knew that the prince wouldn't risk anything dangerous as long as his child indirectly paid the consequences, but he also knew that this didn't provide certainty that he wasn't already unknowingly harming himself. His suspicions only grew when, on the morning after he returned, he reached the young man's rooms after breakfast and the latter had kept him waiting for a good ten minutes before welcoming him into his own sitting room, suspiciously paler than before.

Personally, Charles would not have described himself as tenacious or persevering; on the contrary, if he had not spent his life surrounded by wimpy and spineless noblemen, he would not have hesitated to consider himself a man of weak resolve. No, he had never been as determined or firm in his choices as his brother, if he had been perhaps his life would have been different, very different. He would have liked to be one of those people capable of hating and ignoring their relatives, it would have been easier; but, unfortunately, he had been condemned since childhood to be willing to give everything for his family, even if he didn't get anything in return or worse. Ironic, considering it was his eagerness for approval that led him to be hated by all of them.

Now, Charles may have had many faults including an inability to do the right thing in most cases, but one of his (in his own words) few virtues was learning, at least partially, from his mistakes. That's why he ended up questioning first the young man he had seen Thomas holing up with in the library; his puny appearance hid an extraordinary strength of spirit, he had to wrest the information from him with veiled threats (he would apologize to him sooner or later). With the new information in his possession, it wasn't difficult to 'accidentally' meet Schuyler's daughter while Thomas was resting before having tea with the sovereign.

The girl was much more cooperative once she was convinced that he was trying to help her friend, though she did not take the initiative or freedom to tell him all she knew. She made it clear to him, however, that the meetings between Thomas and George did nothing but soothe the first one's self-esteem, and that was all it took for him to 'carelessly' enter his brother's study moments after his son-in-law.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were busy" he feigned visibly under the watchful eyes of the two, "But, Thomas, Dear! I don't think you should have another tea in such a short time!"

The other two looked confused and bewildered at the statement, so Charles took the opportunity to continue with his tirade: "Sorry, George, really. Oh, well, perhaps it would be best to skip your tea for today."

"I didn't know you two had tea together" the older brother commented pointedly, "And when would that have happened, Thomas?"

Charles feared that Thomas would succumb to the weight of the King's gaze, especially when he turned to look at him for help, but then it happened: "About an hour ago, in my chambers."

"Exactly" Charles said hiding a smirk, "By the way, your friend, Margarita, is looking for you, she says it's important."

"You're really nice, but we decided long ago with Thomas that we would spend some time together to appease the loneliness" intervened the elder, determined to end the matter there itself.

Charles didn't waver for a moment: "Then there is no need since you are no longer alone. In fact, why don't you fill me in on what happened while I was gone? So that Thomas can go and see what young Schuyler wants."

George watched his brother carefully to see what he had in mind, looking away only a second before nodding to Thomas, who could hardly believe that he had been graced twice thanks to his father-in-law, but obviously took the opportunity to go back to his apartments.

They didn't have to wait long before they were alone in the room and Charles sat down in Thomas' seat, ignoring the sharp glances from his brother, who hadn't bought his tirade in the slightest: "What are you trying to do?"

"Your insinuations offend me, big brother" Charles mimicked him, "You told me he needed a friendly face and that's what I'm doing."

"I knew you'd react like this" mumbled the elder annoyed, "Look, I'm doing my best to avoid future problems. Do you have to become a father figure right now? Can't you just keep on not caring, like you always do?"

"Interesting that you're the one asking me this, since you haven't had a chance to be a father figure to anyone" Charles retorted with equal venom.

George slammed his hands heavily on the desk and raised his voice just enough to warn his brother to stop: "I'm not going to talk about this again. If you want information about the war, fine, otherwise you can go play father to Thomas; you've been doing that for a while, haven't you?"

"Tell me the news, before we can both regret our next words."

\---

Eventually, Charles convinced his brother to cancel his afternoon meetings with Thomas, although he had to make uncomfortable compromises to allow it. In a way he wished he hadn't grown so attached to the Frenchman; he knew it would only bring him trouble, yet he found himself unable to repress his affection for the boy who had given him the opportunity to show himself at his best. By now it was a privilege he had only away from the palace walls.

Fortunately, his cockiness got him an invitation to spend time together from his son-in-law the next day. It was rather odd at first, neither of them wanting to say the wrong thing, so there were several awkward silences. The ice began to break when Charles took the liberty of stroking the head of the tiger lying on the carpet, letting out that silly voice everyone uses when they get soft about something.

"Would you tell me about Charlotte?"

The question came like a bolt from the blue and that was enough to make Charles' throat completely dry. All his alarm signals rang out at once and he knew how risky it was even without imagining his brother's reaction if he were there. But ignoring the question or walking away would have been too suspicious and even cruel after Thomas was finally opening up to dialogue again.

When too many seconds had passed, Charles sighed and asked in turn: "What would you like to know?"

"Whatever you prefer, I don't want to force you to say more than you feel to" the other replied with his gaze fixed on the feline.

"She was...", a billion words wouldn't have been enough to describe her, "Wonderful. She was like a poppy in the snow: unusual, but beautiful. She wasn't perfect, mind you, but her imperfections were magnificent, perfectly imperfect. And she made me smile, she made anyone smile..."

"Why did you cheat on her?"

Even Aisha seemed to have stopped purring at the new question, as Thomas returned to calling himself an idiot for his own recklessness.

"I'm so sorry, Charles. I didn't mean to imply anything, I spoke without thinking. Please forget it."

The silence was deafening, Charles wasn't even looking at the Frenchman. He knew it was a bad way to go, the question was legitimate after all, especially when Thomas had been told to be like Charlotte.

"It was a difficult situation" he finally replied, "She was changing and I didn't have the strength to support her or the courage to say no to those events."

He allowed a few more minutes of silence to pass and then added: "I'm not going to pretend that I didn't see Martha's diary in your hands, nor am I going to pretend that I don't know why you're reading it. I just want to tell you never to believe there's something wrong with you, understand? You're not Martha, Charlotte or Rachel, and you don't have to become one of them", he gave a tinge of comedy on the ending, "Also because it would be creepy to find one of the three as a ghost around the palace. Imagine Alexander's reaction if he started seeing you as his mother!"

Thomas chuckled, relieved that Charles wasn't mad at him.

"Please, that's all I'd need."

"What do you mean? Is there something wrong between you two?" asked Charles, turning serious again.

"No, no" hurriedly corrected the Frenchman, "It's all right, it's my fault. I can't expect him to think about me too with all his commitments, I fully understand that. It's all right."

Charles smiled sweetly at the younger man, informing him that: "You need to hone your lying skills, my Dear."

"Please, don't call me that" Thomas whispered softly, as if he didn't want to be heard.

But Charles heard him, and he also sensed the prince's discomfort and shame.

"Of course, I'm sorry" he reassured him sympathetically, "Let me assure you that whatever happened between the two of you will work out. Alexander and James are very different from the generation before them, they don't hurt intentionally, they are kind and always put the good of their loved ones first. Alexander hasn't forgotten you, I can promise you that."

Silence fell again between the two, decidedly lighter than before, albeit charged with the Frenchman's new flare of confidence. After all the time spent alone with his own doubts and fears he had almost forgotten how liberating it was to rely on someone who could provide emotional and mental protection.

"You are a good man, Charles" he confessed to him from the bottom of his heart.

The older man huffed an embarrassed, sarcastic laugh: "I have my doubts about that..."

Thomas would have liked to show him how seriously he meant what he had said, the problem was that he had no idea how to do it. In the end, it was the same thing Peggy felt when she tried to convince him that he wasn't the problem. Maybe the best thing was to let them help each other out, starting with the 'little' things.

"How did you meet Charlotte?"

Charles made no effort to even hide his own smile, answering immediately: "I accidentally threw a bucket of water meant for George on her and she came to talk to me."

"Oh! Well, that's... unusual. It must have been a bizarre first impression for both of you. Considering you two were married, I suppose she took it well" the younger commented causing his father-in-law to burst out laughing.

"She slapped me in front of everyone!" he informed him amidst laughter, "Then she said: << _I won't give you another one just because I'm a Lady!_ >>. God, her face when she realized who I was!", more laughter followed.

Thomas didn't know whether to laugh or disbelieve the words. The image of a melancholy and reserved wife and mother transmuted into that of a new independent and lively woman in her freer years. Too curious to know more, he asked: "And then what happened?"

"Then I bought her a new dress to apologize" Charles answered before laughing again, "It was way too loose, but she had it fixed. She accepted my apology, I rejected hers because it was my fault, and from there followed three years of deep friendship before we walked down the aisle."

He felt good, he hadn't talked about Charlotte in a very long time and having Thomas by his side wanting to hear her story was beyond anything he could have imagined. The rest of the afternoon passed like that, with Charles talking about his beautiful first wife and Thomas granting him an insight or two about himself, away from their demons and George.

\---

The third day was as peaceful as Thomas had experienced in a while. George was too busy with the Council to look after him, Charles showered him with attention every time they crossed paths, Madison had finally admitted the superiority of Euripides' Electra, and Peggy spent all afternoon playing with his hair and dreamily talking to him about James' latest letter.

He was happy to see his friend so in love, to the point of fantasizing that he could actually have her next door as his sister-in-law. That would have been the best for him, but what about her? He would never accept seeing her suffer through consort 'duties', perhaps it would be better if she simply became James' mistress. He shook his head to chase the thought away, dismissing it as cruel and vulgar. Peggy was not of royal blood and would not guarantee any alliance, but she was still the daughter of a Count, it wasn't written anywhere that she and James couldn't get married.

Things seemed to be settling down on their own and honestly Thomas didn't want to think again about what had happened in the previous days, not now that he was starting to feel better. Was he ready to blindly trust someone again? No. Was he still convinced that his food was being contaminated? Yes. So he continued undaunted to vomit after every single meal, even when it was a simple cookie brought by Peggy. Of course, he wouldn't talk to her or to his sisters about it, they would surely have made him stop and they would have done the right thing; he knew it wasn't a healthy thing he was doing, and it wasn't the wisest either, he should have asked them for help. But he had chosen this path now and he couldn't go back, not to face their disappointed looks and judgment.

Besides, he liked to have some solid points in his day, however questionable, to the point where it felt like he was performing a ritual before bed. Back to the room, throw up, quick rinse in the bathroom, nightgown, Angelica's remedies and lotions, in bed with Aisha. Easy and methodical.

That night was no different, he took only a few moments to feel the child; it always gave him good feelings, like the ones he felt when he thought back to spring afternoons spent playing with his sisters and cousins. Sometimes he wondered if his child would feel lonely, he had grown up in a family where everyone was only a few years apart, there was always someone to spend time with. He hoped his little baby would have the same happy childhood.

Returning to the present he turned to the feline at his side: "You'll always be there for she-, he-, whatever it will be you'll take care of it, won't you? Will you take care of it for me?"

Aisha stretched her front paws toward the Frenchman, already snoozing and willing to go along with anything to get some sleep. Thomas snorted in amusement and blew out the candle on the nightstand before imitating the tiger and easily dozing off with the help of Angelica's soporific.

The remedy was really strong, it made him fall asleep after six minutes at the most, seven if he tried hard, and it put him out until the next morning, for an effect of about nine hours; it would have taken a bomb on the palace to make him wake up from such a sleep, which Thomas appreciated. He hated waking up for even the smallest noise and had been waking up in the middle of the night for one reason or another ever since he got married, a reason that no matter what was called Alexander.

At night time always seems to stand still, no matter the era. Maybe it's because staying awake at night deludes us into thinking that time doesn't pass and that the next day will only come when we're ready, or maybe it's because we don't want the day we've just lived to end, or maybe it's because we're too excited about the future or the past that we have to metabolize them in the one moment of the present that we don't have to chase.

The night can be incredibly long or incredibly short depending on what's ahead of us. It's mind-blowing to think that while someone experiences a sweet and peaceful night, someone else experiences a harried and hurried night, and yet it is; it is every night and that one was no exception. Perhaps, however, the fact that two different styles of night suddenly collided with each other was.

After all, Thomas had no reason to fear for his life: George might have forced him to his will, but he certainly wouldn't have at such an hour; the guards controlled the entire perimeter of the palace up to inside the walls and his rooms were always guarded. And even if someone had managed to get in, there was no way he could have hidden from Aisha's keen hearing or her fangs; though tame, she was still a tiger and could hold her species' honor very high. Which is why she was at attention before the bedroom door was even opened by a dark figure in the darkness of the room.

The intruder stood in the doorway, contemplating the sight of the man in the bed, then moved slowly to where the prince slept, careful not to make a sound. Like a good predator, she waited patiently for the right moment when the figure came sufficiently close to the bed to spring forward to try to scratch him, but he promptly pulled back surprised. Not satisfied, she nimbly climbed off the bed to approach menacingly, forcing the man to move away towards the windows while she hissed in warning.

As potent as Angelica's soporific might have been, and though it wasn't a bomb, the commotion managed to jolt Thomas awake, still half groggy from the sleeping liquid.

He mumbled with difficulty: "What's going on? Aisha, what are you-" only to abruptly shut up when he caught a glimpse of the man's silhouette obscured even more by the pale moonlight.

As Aisha continued to shield him with hisses and growls, Thomas tried to snap out of his shock in the hopes that he might be able to shout loud enough to be heard by the guards, but he was left even more frozen in place when the man cursed at the tiger: "Shoo, you stupid cat! You'll wake up everyone!"

That voice... It was impossible, he couldn't be here, he was too far away, he was-

"Alexander?" he asked with his voice reduced to a faint whisper, "Aisha, stop!", the feline had already stopped at the sound of the voice actually, but at Thomas' command she partially moved away from the intruder to get closer to the bed.

"Creature of the devil, and I even promised myself to treat you better" the man took to complaining in that way that could only belong to the American prince.

Wanting visual as well as auditory certainty, Thomas hurried with trembling hands to light the candle that had been extinguished only a few hours before. He felt as if it had taken forever, but it was only the time of a few steps from what the light had confirmed to be his husband.

"Alexandre..." he murmured again, succumbing to the French version of the name.

Free to finally approach the Frenchman, Alexander flashed his smirk as he flexed his knees to be at his height: "Salut à toi, my little sweet-chocolate. Have you missed me?"

Thomas looked at him speechless, sure that he was imagining everything, it was not the first time he dreamt of his husband. A sworn enemy of silence, Alexander carefully climbed onto the bed, almost straddling the Frenchman, without daring to put his weight on him. He took his face in his hands and leaned down to within inches of his lips.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember" he whispered with passion and desire before imposing the meeting of their mouths. He had waited months to feel the warmth of his husband's dark skin again, he wouldn't be able to hold out any longer until the next morning.

Pulling away from the younger's soft and paradisiacal lips, he buried his face in the crook of his neck among the thousands of thick curls, inhaling the longed-for scent. Tickling the other's neck with his own lips, he murmured again: "I missed you more than sunshine on rainy days... More than the hearth to a soldier, more than the air to a hanged man", he stopped his escalation to turn to the pile of hair that grazed his leg, "I did not miss you, child of Lucifer."

"You're not really here" Thomas said suddenly. He was certain it was a dream at that point, the heavy eyelids and surrealism of the situation left no other explanation.

At that point, Alexander left his position to lie on his side of the bed looking at his husband.

"Ah, I'm not?" he asked while keeping a smile on his face.

"No" confirmed Thomas as he closed his tired eyes, “This is just a dream because two days ago was his birthday. Alexander is far, far away... And he'll be there for a long time to come" he finished to say before re-entering the pleasant world of rest under the influence of the soporific.

\---

The French prince was expecting the awakening to be more pleasant. Eliza had told him that he would wake up without drowsiness and perfectly relaxed, instead he felt completely sleepy, as if he could not wake up.

Waiting for him, once he opened his eyes, there was Aisha's sweet sleeping snout on the pillow next to his, confirming that what 'happened' that night was nothing more than a dream. As relieved as he was that he was still able to distinguish between reality and fantasy, an uncomfortable delusion hovered in his chest at the sight of his bed devoid of his husband's presence.

Turning to the windows to welcome the new snowy day, he witnessed an entirely new sight: Alexander, in the most ragged and sweaty clothes he had ever seen, doing push-ups on the floor.

In light of what he had imagined that night and that, for all he knew, the American was in some military camp on the border, he could only admit to himself that: "I'm losing my mind..."

Alexander interrupted his exercises to turn smilingly to the younger man, impatient for what was to come.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! You tended to get up very early when I left, this gestation is doing you good; you didn't even wake up when I bumped into your petineuse" he said cheerfully as he walked over to lie on the edge of the bed, "I may have broken a bottle of perfume by accident, and by 'I may' I mean that I did."

"You're here...", the disbelief was still palpable in his voice, but it soon merged with excitement and what couldn't help but be called joy.

Thomas quickly tossed the blankets aside and assaulted the older with a thousand questions without giving him actual time to answer: "Why are you here? What happened? Where is James? What were you doing on the floor?"

"My military training" he jerked his back in a liberating motion, "James is probably talking to Charles and George or trying to find a way to sneak out to see Peggy. He's gotten so boring since he fell in love."

Thomas watched him yawn in an exaggerated and somewhat graceless manner, noticing only then the dark circles and the slightly red eyes.

"Did you not sleep well?"

"I didn't sleep at all" declared the American almost proudly, "I was too wide awake from the journey and the risk of being mauled. And I wouldn't have known how to do it anyway, your stupid ravenous beast took my whole side of the bed!"

"Come on, that's not true" the younger intervened defensively, stroking the feline's fur distractedly, "You didn't even try, you're still wearing your travel clothes."

"I would have changed them if I hadn't found threats towards me scattered everywhere. Look at this" he muttered as he picked something up off the floor and threw it on the bed, "Why is my nightgown torn, ripped and chewed up? That beast hates me, I tell you."

"She doesn't hate you" Thomas insisted, "She just wanted to feel closer to you. Besides, you're the one who treated her bad from the very first day."

They both stood in silence staring into each other's eyes. It wasn't a staring contest, not a way to figure out who was right; they were realizing they were together again. Once it was clear that neither of them would suddenly disappear, they collided in a tight, needy hug. Alexander's arms encircled Thomas' shoulders and his hands ended up dipped in his hair again, while Thomas' wandered freely along Alexander's sides and back.

Everything was finally fine, maybe the past few months had just been a bad dream for both of them and neither of them had actually been hurt in any way. Or maybe not.

A small hiss followed by an imperceptible shaking of Alexander's arm was what Thomas needed to plunge him into his state of fear and uncertainty and make him pull away from his husband.

"Your arm! I'm so sorry, I hurt you. Where did you get hit?"

"Hey, it's all right, don't worry" the other assured him with a chuckle, "Here, look."

The right sleeve of his shirt was lifted up to above the elbow to show the scar caused by the bullet and subsequent seams.

"See, no permanent damage and it doesn't even hurt too much anymore. Luckily the bullet missed nerves and such."

The Frenchman gently grazed the outline of the wound with two fingers, as if trying to figure out how the wound couldn't really hurt him too much. It wasn't pretty (not to say ugly), it was the size of a marble, lighter than the rest of the skin and annoyingly over-relief; under normal circumstances he would have been impressed to touch it.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me anything?" he asked, trying not to show the annoyance and frustration that had been assailing him for November now.

He must not have done very well or maybe Alexander could read him better than the other thought. As a matter of fact, the older rested his free hand on the soft cheek of his husband as he had that very night and, with caring and attentive eyes, replied: "I didn't want to make you worry about what was my problem."

His problem? What had happened to the 'your problems are also my problems' that everyone accepts with marriage?

"We could have faced it together ..."

"Sweetie, you had more important things to think about, and besides, I didn't want to make you sad with these things!" the American continued to explain, "You must have had some great months with George, he wrote me everything that happened."

Thomas' face went all pale at once, it was the moment of truth. He couldn't feel his legs for fear.

"Everything?"

"Well, yes, at least until I left the encampment" the older reconfirmed, moving his hand from the other's cheek to his side, "And he even managed to get a doctor to examine you! I knew I was leaving you in very good hands."

"So you're not upset? Do you think he did the right thing?", there wasn't much doubt, but it was worth having another confirmation, maybe the answer would surprise him.

And indeed, it did surprise him, but not in a good way.

"Of course, I couldn't have done better! You have to admit you were a bit stubborn, it wasn't so bad in the end, was it?"

"No..." the younger replied automatically, suddenly eager to go to another room, "I should get ready."

"Go ahead. Today is just for the two of us, we can do whatever you like", Alexander took the Frenchman's hand and left a small kiss on the back of it.

"Oh, very noble of you."

'Too bad I want to be alone now' he added in his mind.

Instead, he maintained his mask of courtesy and friendliness, adding: "I actually wanted to go to mass, maybe we can do something later."

"To mass? Perfect! Just give me half an hour to say a decent hello to the others and then we can go" the American said happily, moving away to let the other get up easily.

"Alexander, you would really go to mass with me?" asked Thomas sceptically, "I've only seen you go for our wedding and maybe two other times."

"That's true, but today I am your humble servant, what you wish is what I wish. Get ready, I'll hurry up", then he ran out the door, leaving Thomas alone with too many bad thoughts.

\---

It was easier to wake up early with the threat of the enemy ready to invade the camp than with the knowledge of having to spend hours with the Council. Indeed, the inclination to stay in bed and ignore everyone grew more and more every second in James, who had never been one to be overly passionate towards royal affairs, but would respect and honor them (albeit with some huffing and puffing).

'What if I pretended to be sick?' he thought in the hope that he could delay his duties at least a little, but then quickly shook his head, 'They'd send a doctor. You can't even fake being sick in peace.'

It wasn't fair at all, Alexander had made him ride non-stop for days and hadn't even wanted to stop the night before. Was it going to kill him just to wait a few more hours before being a devoted and lovable hubby? James was also looking forward to getting home (and to Peggy), but it certainly didn't pay to do it at night.

'So, let's be logical: I can either stay locked in a secluded room until tonight, when it's too late to do anything, or I can act like a good prince and get dressed right now', not very believable with his face still buried in his pillow, 'I'll go with the first option.'

And instead, the responsible prince side won out over him once again, but not for the reasons that can be imagined. It was a very quick reasoning of expediency that made him abandon the comfort of the bed: 'The sooner I deal with the royal woes, the sooner I'll run to Peggy.'

Sweet, beautiful, cheeky Peggy. There was nothing remotely comparable to the frustration of not being able to write freely to each other. Thomas had been dear enough to let the two of them use his correspondence to communicate, but they still had to be careful; if anyone had read their letters it would have been difficult to explain why James was writing to his brother-in-law that he wanted to give him his heart.

But then the letters from Thomas stopped coming, and James could only continue to send his own, hoping that Peggy wasn't rejecting his attentions. Later he would thank the Frenchman and perhaps ask for some explanation, assuming he wasn't too busy with Peggy.

It wasn't the first time he'd fallen in love, but it was the first time he felt he cared so much. Not that he didn't care about his other loves, but the flame had always gone out after two or three months; Peggy didn't spark any flames in him, she was directly the fire that Prometheus stole from the gods.

'My goodness, I'm so poetic. I feel just like that guy, the one who wrote the story of King Arthur.'

The self-praise only continued as he took a long look in the mirror. He hadn't wanted to wear either the military pins or the coat, but in his eyes he still looked perfect.

'Look at me, I'm gorgeous. Who knows what beautiful children we would have with Peg-Woo. Too fast.'

Almost as fast as James himself when he couldn't find either of the 'big chiefs'. Charles was neither in his room nor in the chapel, the same for George, and it was too early for them to be already in the meeting room. James thought they were both a bit infamous, after all they had told him last night to go and rest and that they would see each other in the morning and now that it was morning they couldn't be found.

Well, too bad for them. Now there was nothing stopping him from formally asking the very kind Lady Margarita Schuyler to join him for breakfast. At least, that was what he thought as he knocked on the door of Count Schuyler's apartments. Everything ceased when a woman with a darker skin than Peggy's opened the door.

"Did you want something, Your Highness?" she asked him when he stood staring at her like a fish out of water.

"I thought these were Count Schuyler's rooms" James managed to stammer out, his gaze trying to scan the inside of the apartments.

"And they are. I'm his daughter, Angelica, I doubt you could remember me" she replied on the verge of losing her patience, "What do you need?"

"I was looking for your..."

He finally saw a yellow dress flutter into his field of vision and immediately his eyes met Peggy's, which instantly widened in surprise. In a very quick conversation of glances, she made him realize to make something up.

"...your father! Would it be possible for me to speak with him?"

Angelica studied his face mercilessly, then turned to see what the Royal had observed and finally spoke again: "Wait here."

She slammed the door with such force that James thought it would have broken if it had been made of a weaker wood. He had a vague recollection of Angelica from childhood, but he wouldn't say he knew her and he certainly didn't feel like it now; it wasn't complicated to see that she might be a major obstacle between him and Peggy.

After a few minutes the door opened again and out of the room came Philip Schuyler, smiling and much calmer than his oldest daughter, ready to discuss whatever James was able to come up with.

\---

Alexander made much less of a fuss than his brother, settling freely into one of the chairs in the King's study.

'They'll have to come in here sooner or later' he said to himself as he took to browsing through his uncle's papers. Nothing interesting really, but maybe he just thought that because going from weapons in the field to pieces of paper in the office would be boring for anyone.

Even in the drawers he couldn't find much other than his own letters along with James', and it wasn't like he didn't know their contents, so another dead end. That study was much more boring than his, at least he kept something to pass the time with in his secret draw-

'No, that's wrong and highly improper' a little voice told him and he agreed with it. He was acutely aware that he absolutely should not have opened the first drawer and searched for the hidden compartment, as he was doing, nor should he have exulted once he had found it, as he had done.

"You won't find anything in there."

The voice took him so much by surprise that he nearly crushed his hand as he hurriedly closed the drawer. He had been to war, how could he still be caught off guard by an 'old man'?

"Sorry" he mumbled embarrassed, "In my defence, I was getting bored. Where were you?"

George raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms once he was in the middle of the room, then gruffly said: "Is this the way to greet your King after four months away?"

Then Alexander got up from his chair and walked stiffly to face his uncle with a defiant look. Once he got in front of him, they both waited about ten seconds before humping and laughing and hugging each other vigorously.

"It's good to be home" the younger said.

"And it's good to have you back home" replied the King, "Did the journey go well? What news do you bring me?"

"All good, a little blood, a few attacks, the usual English threats. Nothing different from when you frequented the battlefield."

"There's a difference, actually" George pointed out, "I was much younger than you and James, and smarter too" he jokingly boasted.

Alexander grimaced and teased him: "Yes, please tell me your war stories and how you defended our kingdom. You've never shared them with me before."

"Show some respect, son" replied the other one in annoyance.

Alexander rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of fathers and sons, where's Charles?"

"Where's James?" asked George back.

The younger smiled defeatedly, since he couldn't reveal his brother's secret, so he could only reply: "All right, keep your secrets. If you're looking for me, I'm with Thomas."

George looked at him confused at that statement.

"You can't, Alexander."

"What you mean I can't?" he asked sure the other was joking, "I just got back, of course I can, actually I have to."

"Exactly, Alex, you just got back, the Council is waiting for you and James to discuss. I'm afraid we won't get a moment's break before tonight."

Alexander chuckled nervously only to stop when he saw his uncle's displeased face.

"Are you serious?" he asked shocked, "But I promised him that we would spend the whole day together, I even mentally prepared myself to go to mass!"

"I'm sorry, Alex, I'm sure you can spend time together tomorrow. Besides, Thomas is not a fool, he will understand the need for another day apart" the elder assured him.

At the sight of the disappointed face of the prince proposed: "Let's do this, today we devote ourselves to the Council and tomorrow we all go to mass together, so you will find it a little more bearable. Do we have a deal?"

Alexander reasoned about it a bit, Thomas would love to have the whole family together at something he cared so much about, so why not?

"All right" he agreed with a snort, "But I expect to have some time to explain the situation to Thomas."

"I'll meet you in half an hour on the second floor" George said smiling patting him on the shoulder, "And, Alexander."

The prince stood in the doorway to look back: "Yes?"

"Take James away from the Schuylers' apartments and closer to where I can see him."

Oh.

There were plenty of words suitable for the situation, but none suitable for a prince's mouth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll do as you ask", but what kind of a situation had they all gotten themselves into?

\---

Thomas hoped he had seemed quite displeased at the news that he could not spend the day with his husband; he absolutely didn't want him to see him in the midst of his psychic turmoil. A full day alone was what he needed to convince himself that when done by George was necessary and helpful to everyone, starting with himself.

But after spending the last few days with Charles, Madison and Peggy, it was hard not to get bored after only an hour alone. That's why he invited the Virginian to his apartments to keep him company and he didn't regret it in the slightest! Seeing him struggling with Aisha was highly exhilarating, especially since, after convincing himself that she wouldn't attack him, he had to time how long he could pet the tiger before he started sneezing. Thomas found himself admiring the nobleman, it must have been horrible to have such delicate health, but Madison seemed to handle it just fine.

Now, Thomas hadn't thought to introduce Madison to Peggy yet, maybe because it was too soon or because it would be like combining the salty with the sweet, but apparently the time had come. Not because Thomas had invited Peggy to join them as well, but because the aforementioned girl came running like a hare running from foxes into the prince's rooms breathless and red-faced, babbling about James and the fact that their affair was over.

The most shocking thing wasn't so much Peggy's obvious hysterics, but instead the ease with which Madison handled everything. He made her sit down, breathe deeply, drink some tea, told her words of comfort in a low voice and after a while the girl became calm enough to explain to Thomas what had happened, arguing that there was no point in not letting the Virginian listen since everything would soon be exposed.

She was so embarrassed that the only way to convince her to look them in the face was to change the subject completely. Thomas knew he wasn't the funniest of people, Peggy was much more likeable than him, but hell if Madison outshone them both! Maybe it was due to the fact that he told everything with an expressionless face or the fact that all of his stories were about how unlucky he was, but at some point the other two were completely bent over in laughter.

And that was the day Madison simply became James.

\---

Before they could have dinner, for the first time in four months, all together again, Thomas had to wait for James to finally let go of his crushing embrace, which didn't happen until the Frenchman was forced to say that his brother-in-law was the one he missed the most.

Both American princes immediately took to telling stories of what they had seen and the people they had met, filling the room with a thousand words and emotions, and it was beautiful. George laughed, Charles smiled, Alexander held Thomas' hand, James joked about everything. It was exactly what he had lost in the past few months and was desperately trying to hold firmly in his memory.

However, Thomas didn't miss the flashes of sadness on his father-in-law's face, the sharpness in the King's gaze when James joked about his 'sentimental conquests', nor Alexander's series of confused and worried looks at him; but it was all right. There was nothing to worry about anymore, he would put on the mask of the perfect consort and everything would go back to the way it was before.

The only problem, once in the bedroom, was to vomit without being seen by Alexander. The first thing he did when they were alone was to ask him: "Are you feeling well? Usually you radiate the whole room with just your laughter, today you seem a little.... off. Perhaps you'd like to talk about something?"

Well, yes, he would have liked that, but at the same time he would have hated it. And anyway, he had realized he was wrong by now, he just had to convince even the last part of his mind that everything was fine and nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Instead, he masterfully took advantage of the situation to walk away. He flashed his best smile of reassurance and said quietly: "I'm just a little tired, it's been a peculiar day; I'm going to go freshen up for a moment, if you don't mind. In the meantime, you might try to get Aisha to dislodge from your half of the bed."

Fortunately, the American was persuaded by his excuses and started to change for the night while the younger disappeared into the bathroom quarters.

"Stupid, big, bulky demonic creature..." he muttered, marking each word as he tried to move even a few inches away from the feline who seemed to sneer at him under her whiskers, "I wouldn't be laughing so hard if I were as fat as you."

In response, Aisha got even heavier and conquered another bit of Alexander's side of the bed.

The fight went on for a few more minutes before Thomas re-entered the room, careful to hide the shaking of his own hands and the weariness on his face.

"Aisha, be a good girl, move over" he said with a small pat at the end of the bed, where the feline immediately moved, "There, was that so hard, my brave war hero?"

"The truth is that you love that thing more than you love me" muttered offendedly the older finally sitting down on the bed.

"That's not true" challenged Thomas as he settled down to stand in front of his husband, rested his own arms on the other man's shoulders and continued, "I love you both the same but in different ways."

"Oh really? Give me an example" he said continuing to mumble to the American, "You look so pale, are you sure you feel fine?"

Ignoring his husband's last question, Thomas immediately figured out how to distract him and make him forget about his 'sickness', saying: "For example, I wouldn't do this to her", then bent down to leave a sweet kiss on his husband's lips, small and falsely innocent. He let the other feel the wetness of his lower lip, deluding him that he would let him explore his own mouth before quickly pulling back.

'Good thing I rinsed my mouth several times.'

Shamelessly following the other man's face until he was too far away, Alexander forced himself to gain control of the situation.

"You wouldn't sit on that big kitty, would you?", as soon as his husband shook his head he gave him a little trip and pulled him into his lap with a mischievous smile, "Then you can sit on me."

After a series of noisy and messy kisses that made the American wish he could do much more, the two separated to lock in their second hug of the day. Now the fatigue of the ride was taking its toll on Alexander and Thomas had no trouble getting him to lie down on the mattress.

"You will always be mon petit lion" he whispered to him as they hid under the blankets.

"Your little lion, huh? Well, the lion is the king of animals, what are you?" he asked mocking the snoozing feline at their feet.

Thomas let out a small laugh before losing himself in his husband's beautiful eyes. Without realizing it, he ended up by calling him: "Alexandre... I'm sorry we couldn't celebrate your birthday."

Alexander let go a sigh before confessing: "I did everything I could to try to get back in time, unfortunately it wasn't up to you or me. But we'll make up for it, don't worry! It certainly won't be my last birthday."

"It's true, but I'd still like to give you a gift" the younger said tenderly, immediately making the other curious, "Actually I had a real one prepared for you, but I can only give it to you tomorrow, sorry."

"Don't apologize, you shouldn't have even thought of such a silly thing", this relationship was changing him too much, he had never refused a gift before.

Thomas smiled, trying to hide his agitation. He took Alexander's hand and brought it nervously to his stomach.

"Well then, close your eyes and relax" he ordered, "When you think you're ready, just focus on you and the future with the child."

Alexander faithfully followed every one of his husband's instructions, imagining the moment when he would hold the baby in his arms for the first time and pinch the tiny nose. When he felt the thrill of connection coursing through his body, he almost took his hand away in excitement. God, it was wonderful, what he had felt was his child, this wasn't a dream, he really was going to be a father.

"Thomas, did you feel that?! It's amazing! This is a fighter, trust me."

The Frenchman laughed at the sight of his husband so enthusiastic that he blurted out assumptions and praise for his yet unborn child. He was indeed surprised when the older quickly got out of bed and headed for the closet.

"Alexander, what are you doing?"

"I have a gift for you too" he replied pulling something out of his travel bag, "I mean, it's not exactly for you, it's for the both of you, actually for the three of us."

He went back to bed handing Thomas a somewhat old-looking book and told him, "I found it in a church near my encampment, I don't know, maybe it used to be an orphanage. The fact is, from what I've read, it seems to be a pretty good collection of fairy tales and fables to me."

Thomas reached over to the candle on the nightstand to read what it was about: " Fables by Jean de La Fontaine? It certainly seems like American literature is so underdeveloped that you are forced to call upon the great France."

"Shut up" the older replied in annoyance, "Sleep, you and the great France."

\---

What could have been nicer than a good mass on a Saturday morning? Many things actually in Alexander's opinion and James was on a similar wavelength, but let's change the wording of the question: what could be nicer than exploiting a very boring hour and a half of mass, sung and played and with parts in Latin, to tease their respective sentimental interests? Just a few things.

Alexander didn't pretend not to notice the way his brother desperately tried to exchange even a few words with Peggy, closely watched by Angelica and a few seats back from the front row (reserved for the Royal Family). Sacrificing some of his own plans, he asked Thomas to invent an excuse to get the girl to sit next to him and was surprised by the ease with which he convinced both Count Schuyler and his daughters to 'lend' Peggy to him; but after all, she was his lady-in-waiting, so he should not have been so shocked.

George and Charles followed the mass to the highest and most secluded spot, reserved only for the monarch and his consort, but the younger brother sat beside the elder for as long as anyone could remember. This allowed both American princes a certain amount of freedom, such as getting closer and closer to the girl in James' case and brushing up against the Frenchman's hand or leg for Alexander. But something was amiss.

Thomas was far too accommodating in letting his husband touch him in that way and especially in that place; certainly the older had not forgotten how much he blushed every time he did such things, nor how he fidgeted trying to make him stop; and then there was something really strange, in the middle of the homily. The priest spoke of what is the bond between man and Church comparing it to that between two spouses and to do so he brought the example of Saint Paul's letter to the Ephesians regarding marriage, whose 'disturbing' passages are summed up as: submit to the pater-familias in all things, and submit also to those who are respected and honored by it. Similarly, in theory, the pater-familias was supposed to honor his consort just as he honored God. And then people wondered why Alexander did not listen to the mass.

It was just to make a brief comment on the absurdity of what he had just heard that the American turned around just in time to catch the glint on his husband's cheek. Was he... crying? No, he was rather trying to chase back the tears by staring at a still point on the altar; Alexander could see how his breathing came out forced and systematic, just like when he was trying to stop a panic attack, but there was no reason for him to have one now. Nothing weird was happening, it was a perfectly flat situation, the most exciting thing had been his touches on-oh, no.

What was he supposed to do? He certainly couldn't ask him why he was crying as if they were alone in the bedroom, gently wiping his cheek in front of everyone during mass would be beyond scandalous, but he couldn't possibly ignore him. Well, surely he could remove his own hand from the proximity of the Frenchman's leg.

The fleeting movement pulled Thomas out of his state of concentration and allowed him to catch a glimpse of his husband from the corner of his eye. Turning his head in the opposite direction, toward Peggy, he quickly wiped his cheeks and put on his best smile; once he was sure he could lie without breaking down, he returned to his original position offering an embarrassed smile to the American.

"Allergy" he said briefly as justification.

Alexander nodded without moving his gaze. That was certainly not an allergic reaction and anyway he knew when his husband was lying (almost always).

The rest of the mass was a long and interminable agony for Alexander, who could no longer remain silent and watch the mask on the Frenchman's face. He took advantage of the general distraction during the Eucharist to look around for clues, and almost hit his fist on the pew when he found one: Charles, in his isolated spot, following every little movement of his son-in-law with the most calculating expression Alexander had ever seen up to that day.

Of course it was him, it was always him; what the hell had he done this time? Thomas wouldn't tell him the truth, and George, assuming he knew anything, would surely try to mitigate his brother's guilt. He would have to face him alone and the opportunity presented itself, unfortunately, at the end of mass, when the prince hoped to be able to talk to his husband. He should have known that Peggy had not been indifferent to his friend's little 'crisis', indeed she took him straight to one of the confessionals so they could be alone, not before 'accidentally' dropping a handkerchief at James' feet. Fine, it wasn't what he wanted, but the girl's presence would surely do Thomas some good.

"Not now, James" he told his brother even before the latter could speak to him, "We'll talk later."

Arguing after mass was certainly not appropriate for anyone, especially not for members of the Royal Family, so Alexander waited patiently for his stepfather outside the front doors. Fortunately, after a few minutes and too many passing nobles, Charles emerged from the church with a frown on his face that grew as soon as he was approached by his stepson.

"Is something wrong?"

"You tell me", the prince's voice was more like a growl, "You came back only three days before me, what did you do to make him like this?!"

With a deep sigh, Charles spoke, trying not to let his resignation show too much: "I didn't do anything, Alexander, I would never have allowed myself."

"Sure, right" the younger man retorted sarcastically, "Then whose fault is it? George's? Yeah, I can almost picture him doing everything he can to demoralize the very boy he's been taking care of for the last four months, too bad I can't actually do that."

"You can't know what happened while you weren't here, maybe things between them aren't as rosy as you think."

That insinuation completely cut off the reins of reason that were already weakly trying to hold back Alexander's anger.

"Are you really trying to blame the only one in here who has enough honor to admit his faults without justifying himself?! I would know if he had done something wrong, he's not like you! Why can you never take responsibility for yourself?!"

Charles didn't answer, it wouldn't have done any good except to make his stepson scream even more. Instead, he waited for the other's breathing to normalize and for the small vein on his temple to stop pulsing, which took a while. A highly nerve-wracking wait for the younger one, but at least it allowed him to stop feeling like he was on the verge of physically assaulting Charles.

"Feeling better?" he tried to ask, but was immediately glared at, so he got straight to the point, "Look, you don't trust me, I accept that, so just ask Thomas. I'm willing to prove it any way I can, I just want what's best for that boy."

Charles wished he knew what Alexander was thinking in the next few moments of silence, if he believed him at least a little, if he hated him even more, if he would insult him at any moment. Now he was the one experiencing a highly nerve-wracking wait.

Finally, the prince pressed his lips together and nibbled on them from the inside, making his decision: "Stay away from my husband", then he turned around and walked back into the church.

Left alone to stare at the spot where his stepson had been standing until just now, Charles closed his eyes and let his breath slowly leave him until he was forced to inhale again. It was shaping up to be a pretty good day, and this was only the beginning.

Sooner than he would have liked, there was a hand on his shoulder and the dumbest question that could have been asked at that moment: "Are you all right?"

"A marvel, thank you" he replied turning to look at his brother, "Am I free until lunch or do you need me for some meeting or something?"

"He seemed angry, what did he say to you?" the sovereign asked again.

"Nothing out of the ordinary or that he hadn't told me before. Your reputation is safe, in case you were wondering" the younger brother informed him wearily, "Do you have any chewing tobacco somewhere? I forgot mine in Monticello."

George beckoned him to follow him as he began to walk.

"There's enough in my rooms for both of us, follow me. We need to talk of James."

"About?" asked already concerned Charles.

"Philip Schuyler's daughter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said there would be big revelations in this chapter? Well, I'm a big bad liar, BUT NOW WE ARE HERE, the next chapter is the decisive one, I swear.  
> Read Jean de La Fontaine's book, it's very nice.  
> But most importantLY, ALEX, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, TAKE THE HAM OFF OF YOUR EYES
> 
> GO LISTEN/STREAMING WILD THING REMIX, I can't stop imagine Thomas and Peggy singing/rapping across the room in the middle of a mental breakdown


End file.
